


This is the Normandy; the impossible is kinda what we do.

by GemmGemm



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Drinking & Talking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mostly between missions, Pre-Relationship, calibrations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-05-13 19:52:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 36,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14755247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GemmGemm/pseuds/GemmGemm
Summary: The impossible is what we do, miracles may take longer! A safe harbor for my Shakarian and Pre-Shakarian stories. They're mostly one-shots. starting in Mass Effect 2 and (hopefully) into Mass Effect 3.





	1. Garrus' last stand, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus had hated Omega the instant he arrived. It had one good thing going for it, and only one: lots of things to shoot. He'd needed lots of things to shoot over the last two years. And now he was dying, he was back to hating it again. Shepard picked up the first dossier and rolled her eyes, what kind of name was Archangel, anyway?

Garrus was dying, and it wasn't going to be the death he'd envisioned. He'd seen a death in battle on some war-torn planet. Or, when he was in a better mood, something a little more heroic; sacrificing himself to save another? That would have been a good death. Forget dying of old age, the idea of that had gone out of the window a little over two years ago. Basically, he'd envisioned the exact opposite of this. Those deaths he thought he'd be OK with, but not this. He was most certainly not OK with going out like this.

The death of a caged animal was a different kind of death, but just as inevitable.

He was still bleeding, but it wasn't blood he was losing. It was energy, ammo, supplies. Hell, even the will to fight. The food he'd gathered was long gone, he had water left for another few hours at best. He couldn't remember how long he'd been up here without sleep and he was down to his last two stim packs. His rifle was getting so heavy he didn't think he'd be able to resist the call of those stims for long.

Yeah, a different kind of death.

It wouldn't be so bad if he was expecting a quick, clean end to this, but the spirits never had been _that_ kind to him. He'd done too much, caused too much trouble. The merc bands that had teamed up to bring his reign of terror to an end would see him suffer. Just as they'd killed his team to see him suffer. Shit, Sensat was barely older than Tali, she didn't deserve what they'd done to her. None of them had. All he could do now was make sure he took as many of those bastards with him as he could.

No matter how many he killed it wouldn't be enough, _could_ never be enough.

He peered through his scope, looking down the long bridge, the only reason he was still alive. The latest wave of cannon fodder the mercs had sent after him were retreating back over their barrier and into cover. He fired a few more shots at their feet for good measure. It did the trick, he could practically smell their panic from his sniper perch on the balcony. He saw one man actually throw one of his fellows aside to propel himself over the barrier faster. Garrus shook his head; alright, forget the bridge, _that_ was the reason he was still alive. They were only out for themselves, for credits. No team-work, no cohesion or communication.

 _Hell, if they worked together they'd be over here in no time_ , Garrus thought. Shepard would have her team of three on his ass in a heartbeat.

The last merc vanished from sight. Garrus lowered his too-heavy-weapon, and sank to the floor. The proximity alarms that the mercs hadn't (thankfully) found would alert him when they tried another push.

He gave himself a few minutes to rest, just a few minutes. He let his eyes slide closed and his head fall back against the post he was leaning on with a heavy sigh.

He'd thought about Shepard a lot since being trapped in here. It was almost as though his mind was trying to cram in as many thoughts of her as it could before his time ran out, as though it was trying to make up for lost time. After all, he'd spent the last two years trying his damnedest _not_ to think about her. To not think about Anderson turning up at his old place on The Citadel, in his dress blues and miserable expression. To not think about the farce they called a funeral. Or think about The Councils actions afterwards. To not think about the fact if he'd been on The Normandy when she'd gone down then his best friend would still be alive. But he hadn't been there, in the same way he hadn't been there when the mercs had attacked the base and slaughtered his team.

Guilt churned his stomach, turning it into a lead weight.

Maybe it wasn't so strange he was thinking about her after all.

Even after all this time the old wound still stung.

Mind you, it was hard to forget with her voice still chirruping away in the back of his head. He'd talked back to that voice in the first few, dark, months. Never out loud of course, that would be too much like admitting he was losing his mind. When he'd begun to fear for his sanity he'd started to ignore it all together. It hadn't made it go away, by now Garrus was pretty sure it never would. He still hadn't decided if he was relieved or not. He was feeling pretty damn resentful toward that voice right now. It was Shepard's voice in his head that had convinced him to take on a team in the first place. And now they were dead. Couldn't blame Shepard for that one though, that wasn't her fault,

 _Not yours either,_ the voice said quietly.

He ignored it, instead wondering what the real Shepard would think of his current situation. She'd probably kick his ass for getting here in the first place. Mercs straight ahead and collapsed tunnels behind him.

_Caught between a rock and a hard place, big guy._

OK, that one was enough to make his mandibles twitch a little, humans and their damn idioms.

Yep, she'd kick his ass. Or, more likely; hug him, tease him mercilessly about having to come to his rescue, load her shotgun and thrown herself at the mercs. Probably via the balcony if she had her way

_I always did like to make an entrance._

_As I recall, your fondness for dramatic entrances got us in trouble once or twice._ Garrus said back. Hey, what was a bit of insanity if he was dying anyway?

_Only once or twice?_

_I'm being generous here Shepard, don't push your luck._ He could hear her laughter ringing around his head. _Tell me a story, Shepard._

_Did I ever tell you about the time I hunted down an ex-spectre that was trying to bring destruction to the entire galaxy?_

_I think I remember that one, didn't you have a rather dashing turian helping you out?_

_There MAY have been a turian fitting that description. Bit of a hot-head, not a fan of rules, had a thing for justice and shitty turian whiskey._

_Sounds like a pain in the ass._

_You have no idea! He was alright though, I guess._

_Thanks Shepard._ Garrus thought.

Shit. How'd he get here? Trapped in his own base talking to ghosts?

As it was the case with most stories involving destruction, it had started with a bar. One of the few quiet ones on Omega, no asari dancers, no blaring dance music, but they did carry Garrus' favourite (shitty, thanks Shepard) turian whiskey. He'd just _had_ to stop in that night, just _had_ to sit and talk to the burly human at the end of the bar. The only person in there who'd looked anywhere near as miserable as Garrus had felt. The human introduced himself as Butler. Butler had refused to pay the mercs extortionate “protection” money. In retaliation they'd fire bombed his business, taken the man's livelihood. So Archangel had gone hunting. He'd tracked the mercs that had taken the sad human's business and made damn sure they wouldn't do it to anyone else. The credits he'd salvaged had gone back to the human. All in all, Garrus had considered it a good days work. Until Butler reappeared and, instead of spending the money on re-building his business, he'd spent it all on new weapons and armour. Butler was smarter than he looked. And a damn sight tougher. He'd put two and two together and figured out who Garrus was, the next time he'd gone to the bar, Butler was waiting for him. He'd told Garrus he wanted to join him. Stubborn bastard wouldn't take no for an answer. It reminded him of another human he'd known, in a different life. And now Butler was dead, along with-

_Time to get up, big guy._

He pushed the voice away, he was tired. A little longer. Just a little longer.

_Vakarian! Wake up, on your feet solider!_

Shit. His eyes popped open. His heart hammering in his chest. He'd almost been asleep. He grabbed a stim pack, pulled the cap off with his teeth and slid the needle between his plates.

 _I owe you one, Shepard._ He said to the voice, already feeling the stims going to work in his bloodstream. He pulled himself to his feet, lifted his rifle to his eye and peered down the scope. A head appeared in his sights.

“This ones for Butler,” Garrus muttered aloud. He inhaled, squeezed the trigger, exhaled.

Time for the next wave.

 

He ran through their names; Butler, Monteague, Grundan, Melanis, Sensat, Weaver, Vortash, Ripper, Krul, Mierin, Erash, Shepard, inhaled, squeezed, exhaled.

This wave was by far the longest. He'd repositioned at some point and knocked his last stim pack out of reach. It sat just over an arms length away, mocking him as the light caught it's packaging, sending twinkling spots of light into his eyes, making his already painful headache throb in time with his heartbeat. The reflections of light were too bright to be natural. His thoughts were cloudy, muddled. Was he starting to hallucinate? Were those little spots of light in his eyes real? Or part of too little food and rest and too much artificial stimulant?

 _Focus Vakarian!_ The Shepard in his head demanded, _You've got this. Inhale, squeeze, exhale. Remember?_

 _Were you always this bossy?_ He tried to joke, even in his head it fell flat. He didn't have much time left.

_Not much longer big guy, I promise...Inhale, squeeze, exhale._

_Hey, Shepard? Is human heaven and turian heaven the same place?_

She didn't answer. He ran a hand over his face.

He hoped it was.

 

Garrus turned his scope back to the bridge. A new group was clambering over the barricade. This group was smarter. A little. They kept low, darting into cover. His eyes scanned the usual mixture of ill-fitting, probably stolen, armour until he stopped on a man that was better kitted out than anyone he'd seen so far. Garrus focused in on the humans face, he was older, heavily scarred. Garrus was surprised, they were sending seasoned veterans over the bridge now? And the man wasn't alone, a dark haired human woman in white armour was with him, shielded with a biotic barrier. OK, this was new. They spilt onto opposite sides of the bridge but didn't move up. They hung back, letting the other mercs move ahead of them. Garrus picked off a few of the more confident ones before moving back to the veteran and his partner. They were both looking in the same direction, but not at him. The veteran made a gesture towards someone that was out of Garrus' line of sight, they were taking orders from someone else? He followed the gaze of the scarred veteran, trying to see who their leader was. He caught sight of a flash of red, what he thought was a small human, before they were gone. Garrus blinked, _what the hell??_ He pulled back from his scope, zoomed out a little and surveyed the bridge again, taking out a few of the idiots mercs that were hanging out of their cover. His eyes flicked over the bridge before he spotted the new-comer again, he just registered that she was a smaller than average human female, when, an instant later she vanished with a flash of red and the unmistakeable violet flare of biotics.

 _Impossible, no one moved like that!! It was too fast. No,_ Garrus corrected himself, _No one ALIVE moved like that._

A split second later and the human reappeared in the centre of a knot of mercs. With a roar she leapt into the air before slamming her fist into the ground, with an explosion of her biotic barrier she threw the knot of mercs into the air, sending some tumbling off the bridge.

Garrus' hands fumbled, almost sending his rifle toppling off the balcony. He'd only ever seen one person do that...

_Shepard?!?_

Maybe he was losing his mind after all!

With a thumb that was shakier than he'd like to admit, he flicked his rifle to concussive rounds and lined a shot up with her shoulder. Not enough to do any real damage, just enough to take her barriers down. Just enough to be sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. He couldn't be seeing what he thought he was seeing. It wasn't possible.

 _It can't be her! She'd dead, no amount of wishful thinking is going to bring her back!_ He told himself firmly, _You're seeing things Vakarian, hallucinating. Just like the light on the stim pack. You're seeing Shepard because you've been thinking about her, that shot is going to hit nothing but empty air, you just watch!_

He squeezed the trigger.

The shot connected.

Her biotic barrier winked out and she rolled into cover before sticking her head out to look up at him. Same bright green eyes, sharp and narrowed in anger. A hand came up to push the same red hair out of her face in a gesture he'd seen her do a hundred times,

“Hey, asshole! We're on your side!” She shouted at him, Garrus smiled, same attitude too.

Same eyes, same hair, same attitude. But the scars. The scars were different; splitting the skin on both cheeks.

_Shit Shepard, what happened to you??_

He watched as she sent a shockwave down the bridge, it had barely left her hands when she was running in it's wake, spinning her shotgun in her hands, waving her team into cover while she nimbly danced and span across the battlefield, drawing the mercs attention. And their bullets. That was the same too, Garrus guessed some things never changed.

 

Shepard and her team vanished from his field of view and into the ground floor of his building. He could still hear them fighting, he'd been so distracted by Shepard that some mercs must have gotten past him and into the base. He didn't doubt that she could handle it, and instead focused on keeping the bridge behind them empty. Only a few minutes passed before he heard the door open behind him, he still hadn't gotten his head around the situation, still hadn't figured out how the hell Shepard was here. But his time was up,

“Archangel?” She asked from behind him. He held a hand up, one last pesky merc was on the bridge. He would probably retreat but Garrus needed one more second to gather his thoughts. The mercs head appeared from behind his cover and Garrus took the shot. With no excuses left he pushed himself to his feet. His legs were a little shaky. A combination of shock at Shepard standing in front of him and exhaustion. He turned a well practised, C-Sec trained eye on her properly, scanning her from head to toe.

The armour was new, not the set she'd worn on The Normandy. It wasn't the same old, well loved, krogan shotgun she was pointing at him. But the grip? The grip was right. Fingers slightly splayed to compensate for her smaller hands. Her hold firm but careful; she really did love her shotguns.

The expression was all her too, meticulously rehearsed to look neutral. That expression said she could either kill you or befriend you, and she didn't care which you picked. Except Garrus knew she did care, more than anyone else he'd ever known. He knew that look, even if it did come from a face that was covered in scars he didn't recognise. A faint red glow was just visible underneath.

Even with all that, it was the eyes that truly convinced him.

Even after two years he'd know those eyes anywhere.

Humans have large, expressive eyes as a general rule, but Garrus had yet to see the eyes that rivalled Shepard's. The same shade of green as some of the grasses that grew on Palaven. Emerald lightning, sharp and quick witted: eyes that never missed anything. Garrus had seen them glitter with trouble, humour and curiosity. They weren't glittering right now, they were sharp, focused, the eyes of a hunter. She could school her features all she liked, Garrus could read those eyes, as Shepard would say, like a book.

He headed for the couch, perching on the arm before pulling off his helmet,

“Shepard. I thought you were dead.”

“Garrus!” She cried, the sharp look disappeared as her face split into a huge smile. The skin around the new scars pulled and creased. The skin looked tight, almost painful, and very much as though it wasn't used to being pulled into this particular expression.

 _Seriously Shepard, what THE HELL_ _happened to you??_

The unfamiliar shotgun vanished and she threw her arms wide as though to pull him into a hug, she took a few steps toward him before her foot stopped almost in mid-air and her head jerked slightly to her left, towards the woman next to her. Her smile slipped a little and her arms dropped. Garrus looked at the woman in white properly for the first time and saw the sigil on her arm.

_Cerberus? Shit._

The woman was looking between himself and Shepard with an interest he wasn't sure he liked,

“Garrus, what are you doing here?” Garrus turned his attention back to Shepard, he tilted his head to one side in silent question, she did the tiniest little head shake that practically screamed _Not now_ at him, the Cerberus woman didn't seem to notice. They hadn't been working together long then, he noted.

“Just keeping my skills sharp. A little target practice.” He tried to quip, though even he could hear the exhaustion in his voice. Shepard knew him better than anyone, she'd hear it like a damn foghorn. Right on cue her brows furrowed, pulling down in concern,

“You OK?”

“Been better.” He shrugged, “But it sure is good to see a friendly face, killing mercs is hard work. Especially on my own.” It's good to see _you_ was what he wanted to say, the small nod and softening of her eyes told him she understood. She opened her mouth, clearly wanting to ask him more questions, he had one or two for her come to that, but after a quick glance at the Cerberus agent she seemed to think better of it, she bit her lip instead before gesturing back to the window,

“Well we got here, but I don't think getting out will be as easy.”

“No, it won't.” Garrus said, dragging himself back to his feet, “That bridge has saved my life, funnelling all those witless idiots into scope but it works both ways. They'll slaughter us if we try to get out that way.”

“So we just sit here and wait for them to take us out?” The Cerberus agent asked, Shepard rolled her eyes, it was so familiar that Garrus could have gone back in time two years. They could very well have been discussing Wrex's suggestions on ways to improve the Mako, the three of them hanging out in The Normandy's shuttle bay. Not in the ruins of his base on Omega.

He still couldn't believe she was here, he half expected her to vanish if he turned away. He shook his head a little to bring himself back into the present and cleared his throat,

“It's not all that bad, this place has held them off. So far. And, with the three of you, I suggest we hold this locations, wait for a crack in their defences and take our chances. It's not a perfect plan, but it's a plan.”

“And here I had reservations at Afterlife.” Shepard tutted dryly, joining him at the window. “I guess I'll have to settle for killing mercs.” It was Garrus' turn to roll his eyes,

“Nice to see you haven't changed. Let's see what they're up to.” Garrus held his rifle back up to his eye, focusing in on the barricade. They'd apparently used up their latest batch of cannon fodder, the steady stream of mercs making their way over the bridge had ceased. Now it seemed Eclipse we sending their mecs over instead, “Looks like they know their infiltration team failed.” Garrus muttered, “Take a look.” He handed his rifle to Shepard. She looked a little unsure, her eyes flicking from the rifle up to meet his. Her head tilted at an angle he interpreted as _are you sure?_ She knew he wasn't one to give his gun to just anyone, hell on the SR-1 he'd refused Ashley's offer to clean and maintain it, keeping that job for himself. As Shepard had done with her own weapons. But she wasn't just anyone, she was Shepard. He half shrugged, half nodded and pressed the gun into her hands, she took with what was almost reverence before bringing the scope up, “Scouts, Eclipse I think.”

“Looks like a lot more than just scouts.” She said, passing him back his gun, “They've got a small army back there, but most are just walk-ins. If we work as a team we'll hold them off.”

“Indeed. We better get ready. I'll stay up here, I can do a lot of damage from this vantage point.”

“I'll bet you can.” His mandibles flicked out into a smile,

“And you? Well, you just do what you do best,” he winked at her, “Just like old times, Shepard.”

“By “old times” do you mean me pulling your ass out of the fire? Because if you did, then yes, Vakarian, yes it is.” She grinned back at him and returned his wink. He opened his mouth, a retort on his tongue when she called, “What? Sorry, can't hear you over the sound of me saving your ass!”

And vaulted straight over the balcony.

“She did not just-” Cerberus agent said, starring at the spot where Shepard had vanished with her mouth slightly agape,

“You don't know Shepard very well, do you?” He asked, trying, and mostly failing, to keep the humour out of his voice. She gave him a less-than-pleased look before hurrying out the door with the veteran, who also looked like he was trying to hide is amusement, in tow. Garrus tuned his comms into their frequency before opening a second, more secure line, using the frequency they'd used back on The Normandy,

“I think we've pissed off your Cerberus friend.” Garrus chuckled,

“Miranda?” Shepard scoffed, “Nah, bitch is like her default setting or something. How'd you let yourself get into this position, Garrus?”

“My feelings got in the way of my better judgement. It's...” He really didn't want to get into this right now, “It's a long story.”

“Yeah? I've got one of those myself.”

“I'll make you a deal; get me out of here alive and we'll trade over a bottle of ryncol.”

“Working on it.” He couldn't see what she was doing, he was focusing on the other end of the bridge, picking mecs off as they came over the barricade, but he could hear the frequent blasts of her shotgun and the sound that accompanied her biotics, “Trust you to somehow piss off every merc in The Terminus system.”

“It wasn't easy, I really had to work at it.”

“Somehow I doubt that.” The heard two shots from her gun in quick succession, “This is much easier now I've not got a sniper shooting at me. You nailed me good a couple of times, by the way.”

“Nailed you, Commander?” He coughed,

“Oh? We're starting the innuendo early?” She laughed, “You shot me, Vakarian! You know? With bullets?”

“Concussive rounds only, no harm done.”

“Uh-Huh.”

“If I'd wanted to do more than take your shields down, I'd've done it.” He let some of his usual cockiness seep into his voice, “Besides, you were taking your sweet time, I wanted to get you moving.”

“Gee, thanks.”

The barricade was clear for the moment, Garrus dropped into cover to reload,

“Have you run into anyone else?” He asked. For a moment he thought he'd lost the connection, Shepard hesitated that long before answering,

“Tali.”

“Tali's with you? Where is she?”

“No. Tali...declined my offer to join us.” Even through the comms, and with the roar of Shepard's shotgun, Garrus caught the catch in her voice,

“I'm sorry, Shepard.”

“No, no it's good, she has her own mission. I've been gone for two years. It's not like I expected everyone to just drop everything and come back. It's good.” Garrus let the painfully obvious false cheer in her voice go, knowing he'd have dropped everything in a heartbeat if Shepard asked him to. Instead he joked,

“She probably just didn't want the competition for close quarter combat.”

“Oh, please,” Shepard snorted, “like I have _any_ competition.”

“Easy to say when you have a sniper backing you-” A heavy mech landed in the middle of the bridge, “Heads up! Heavy mech, fall back!”

“That problem should take care of itself actually.”

“What do you-” The rest of his question died off as it was answered for him by the mech targeting the Eclipse mercs, “How'd you pull that off?” Garrus laughed,

“I did occasionally pay attention when you were explaining tech, you know.”

“Oh? So the glazed looks were...”

“That's just how I look when I'm concentrating!”

“Shepard, you fell asleep! Twice!”

With the mech on their side they soon cleared the last of the mercs.

Garrus switched to the other channel so the others could hear,

“Alright, we're clear. Come find me before they re-group.”

 

Garrus tossed one of his few remaining bottles of water to Shepard as she led her team back up to the balcony,

“You're kicking ass, Shepard.”

“No so bad yourself, big guy.” She replied, taking a mouthful of water before passing the bottle to Miranda, “Only the Blue Suns and Blood Pack left, think we can make a break for it?”

“Maybe, let's see what they're up to.” Once again Garrus turned his scope to the barricade, but this time it looked different, they'd raised it and built more guard posts, “They've reinforced the other side.” As he was speaking Garrus saw a pair of engineers setting up turrets, “Heavily. What are they waiting-” An explosion under their feet quickly followed by his proximity alarms cut him off.

_Damn._

“What the hell was that?” Miranda asked,

“Dammit, they've breached the lower levels. Well, they had to use their brains eventually.”

“Want me to head down there and clear them out?” Shepard asked, already reaching for her shotgun,

“We can-” Garrus caught movement out of the corner of his eye, the mercs were taking no chances, another large group were assembling at the barrier, “On second thought, you take the tunnel, I'll keep the bridge clear?”

“Sounds like a plan. You wanna keep one of my team with you? Two and two?”

“You sure? Who knows what you'll find down there.” She just gave him a look, the _oh please_ left implied,

“Zaeed? Keep his bony ass alive, would you?”

“Got it, sweetheart.” The gruff veteran chuckled.

Zaeed? As in Zaeed Massani? His name had crossed Garrus' desk a few times back on The Citadel.

“Thanks Shepard,” Garrus said, making a mental note to get her back for the bony ass comment, “Head behind the stairs and through the doors. There's three shutters you need to close. I'll give you directions if you get lost but you better hurry.”

“We're on it. Keep your heads down, and don't die.”

“You too.”

The door had barely closed behind them when Garrus was reaching for his last stim pack. He was on his feet purely due to adrenalin and will power, but it didn't last forever. As he withdrew the needle he looked up to see Zaeed watching him,

“Garrus Vakarian, right? Might'a heard a thing or two about you.”

“Yeah? I might'a heard a thing or two about you as well, Zaeed Massani.” Zaeed chuckled again,

“Don't suppose you go from C-Sec to being the most hated vigilante on this god-forsaken station without hearin' some shit, huh?”

“The same could be said for a hired gun going to work for Shepard.” Garrus fired back,

“Don't see how it's any of your fuckin' business, but the kid and I go pretty far back. And even if we didn't, The Illusive Man's got bloody deep pockets.”

“The Illusive Man?” Garrus asked in surprise, “Shepard's working for Cerberus?” He'd thought maybe Miranda was a defector, he guessed he was wrong.

“You'll have to ask your girlfriend about that, Vakarian.”

“Shepard isn't-”

“I've known Shepard for a long time, too god-damn long, I know just about everything there is to know about that girl. Right now only two of those thing are important: one: she's hard as fuckin' nails, and two: she cares about your turian hide for some bloody reason. And she'll damn well kill me herself if she comes back here and you're fuckin' dead.”

“That's three things.” Garrus dead-panned,

“We gonna kill some god-damn mercs or sit here like a fuckin' sewing circle?” Garrus laughed and picked up his rifle, “One other thing I know, if you're done being bloody clever; she finds out you've been using that shit,” Zaeed nodded at the empty stim pack, “she'll kick your ass.”

“It's a good job nobody's gonna tell her then.”

“You're god-damn right.”

 

It turned out that he and Zaeed worked well together, arguing about the best gun and armour mods between head-shots, Garrus already found himself liking the old scarred veteran. The fact that he knew Shepard so well surprised him, she wasn't the type to hang around mercs and bounty hunters, even if Zaeed was one of the good ones. He should have known it was going too well. Just as Shepard came over the comms to say they'd hit the second shutter there was a sudden flurry movement as Blood Pack members swarmed toward the barricade,

“Pissing hell.” Zaeed hissed,

“Erm, Shepard?” Garrus asked into the comm unit, “How are you coming on that third shutter?”

“Almost got - Miranda! Get down!” Shepard's shout crackled with interference before her voice almost became a coo, “Aww, varrens!”

“Shepard! The shutter?!”

“Almost got it, another minute.”

“We don't have a god-damn minute!” Zaeed barked into his headset, grabbing handfuls of ammo,

“What?!” The alarm in her voice coming through loud and clear,

“Yeah, no pressure.” Garrus said mildly, throwing proximity mines over the balcony.

“Screw it.” She growled, “Miranda, throw that vorcha in front of the shutter, I need a charge target.”

“Shepard-” Miranda tried to argue,

“Miranda, now!” Shepard barked, “Give me thirty seconds, tops.” Shepard said, he could hear her shotgun fire in quick succession before it went quiet again.

“That woman's fuckin' insane.” Zaeed said, a hint of admiration in his voice,

“You'll get no arguments from me.”

“Aww varrens?”

“Pretty much anything from Tuchanka really.” Garrus said with a fond smile, “Wrex always said she was part krogan. Alright, here they come!” The Blood Pack members surged over the barricade. They couldn't even come close to keeping up, Garrus' proximity mines and Zaeed's grenades thinned their numbers a little but they were outnumbered at least a dozen to one. Even so, Garrus didn't start to get really concerned until he heard the unmistakeable sound of a blowtorch on his sealed ground floor doors, swiftly followed by the muffled voice of Garm, the Blood Pack leader, just on the other side. Shit. That krogan was a damn freak of nature, he could re-gen faster than any krogan Garrus had ever seen,

“Head downstairs, give Shepard back up when she comes through the door, we're gonna need all guns blazing.” Zaeed nodded and ran for the stairs, Garrus watched him take cover as the door opened and Garm came through. Garrus lined up a head-shot at the vorcha at Garm's side, he took the shot, gaining Garm's attention, hopefully Zaeed had gone unnoticed. His ploy worked, the krogan turned to head for the stairs to his balcony just as Shepard and Miranda came sprinting through the doors, the four of them attacked from three angles, dropping vorcha and varrens left and right, but Garm kept coming. Damn. This wasn't good. Garrus' strength was sniping, working in shadows, in the silence. Close quarters with Garm? He could hold his own, but not for long.

The hulking krogan took up half the doorway,

“Archangel, alone at last.” Garm grinned, shotgun in hand,

“Garm, did you miss me?” Garrus asked, weighing his options, the sounds of raging battle coming from below them,

“I'm gonna rip your plates off, turian.”

“You can try.”

Before Garm could move Garrus had fired a concussive round into his barriers and leapt into cover, exchanging his sniper for his assault rifle. He rolled, popping up at the other end of the sofa he'd taken refuge behind, peppering Garm's barrier with bullets. Garm roared and charged at Garrus, but he was ready, turning on his knee at the last second before firing another burst into the krogan's back. Garm fired his shotgun wildly, hitting where Garrus had been just seconds before. Krogan were tough, but Wrex had taught him a few things; like taking out the secondary organs first. He flicked a proximity mine at Garms feet, momentarily sending him reeling, just enough time for Garrus to fire at where he knew Garm's secondary heart was. He didn't think he'd gotten through the armour but he'd definitely weakened it before he was forced back into cover as Garm threw warp after warp at him.

 _Shit,_ Garrus thought, _he's just giving himself time to re-generate!_

Knowing that didn't help, leaving his cover was suicide. Garm was in a rage, throwing biotics powers and firing his shotgun while roaring in anger. In a burst of inspiration Garrus threw another mine, this time towards Garms face, the mine was caught in the crossfire, exploding in mid-air, temporarily blinding him. Garrus emptied his clip into Garms second heart before diving to the other side of the room, scrambling behind one of the large planters. He didn't quite make it before Garm's vision cleared. Shit, now he was screwed, out of ideas and with nowhere to go! Garrus' nimble fingers reloaded his assault rifle as Garm's heavy footfalls cleared the room. Damn krogan knew he had him trapped, bastard was enjoying taking his time. Garrus ground his teeth together to stop himself from popping out of cover and empting another clip in Garm's sneering face. He shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, Garm may be stronger than he was, but Garrus was a damn sight faster, he just needed a-

“Is this a bad time?” Shepard asked from the doorway, “I can come back if you're busy.”

_I just needed a distraction, thank you Shepard._

Garrus rolled away from the planter, skirting behind the furthest sofa,

“This doesn't concern you, human.” Garm growled,

“I beg to differ.” Shepard unloaded her shotgun from the front, Garrus his assault rifle from behind. Garm roared his displeasure before throwing a warp at Shepard, she dodged out of the way, reloading her shotgun with practised ease,

“Hey, Garrus?” Shepard called across the room, sounding so casual they may as well be in a noisy bar rather than a damn fire fight, “Remember the krogan when we rescued Liara?”

“Dammit.” Oh yeah, he remembered that tactic alright. He reached for his sniper rifle again, “I hate that one.”

“Yep.” Was her only reply as she jumped back to her feet, dodging Garm's wild attacks, his rage making him unpredictable but no less dangerous. She threw herself into open ground, between him and Garrus; Garrus gripped his rifle tighter, they'd only get one shot at this, he had to make it count.

“I thought krogan were meant to be tough? I've seen salarians with bigger quads .” Shepard taunted, it did the trick, Garm bellowed at the ceiling before charging her, she launched herself right back at him with her biotics, they collided with a crash of armour on armour as Garm overpowered her, sending them both tumbling to the ground with Garm on top, his hands going for Shepard's throat,

“Garrus?”

“Now!” He jumped to his feet as Shepard pushed Garm as hard as she could, his head came up and Garrus took the shot. A large sniper bullet in such close quarters does an incredible amount of damage, and this particular bullet hit the mark, right between Garms eyes. It travelled right out of the back of his head and lodged in the wall. Orange blood splattered everywhere as the krogan collapsed in a heap. With a grunt of effort Shepard pushed the heavy body off her and looked up at him from the floor,

“I think we ruined your carpet.”

He laughed, as much from relief as Shepard's joke, and reached a hand down to pull her to her feet,

“I hear orange is in this season.” He quipped, stepping back a little as Shepard activated her comm,

“Miranda, Zaeed? We all clear down there?”

“All clear Commander. We're making our way back.”

“Roger that.” She deactivated the comm before turning back to Garrus, “Just Blue Suns left, wanna make a break for it?” He opened his mouth to answer when his superior hearing picked up an usual sound, was that.... _gunship!_ His mind screamed at him, he turned toward the window just as it appeared. He didn't think, just reacted as the weapons came into view. He pushed Shepard over, knocking her back behind cover as the gunship opened fire. His shields didn't stand a chance, the gunship's weapons tore through them and into his armour. He heard Shepard shouting his name as heat and pain ripped through his shoulder, chest and both arms as he dropped to the floor, scrambling behind a planter for cover. His suit could barely keep up, flooding his body with medi-gel. It wasn't going to be enough. Fighting for breath and vision already wavering he glanced to the side, a stricken looking Shepard was on the balls of her feet, ready to run to him, he waved her down. He had to get to her cover, he gathered the last of his strength, pulling himself up to a crouching position to make a break for it when the rocket hit in an explosion of light, sound and fire.

Blackness surrounded his vision, shrinking light down to a pin prick. Everything felt far away and unimportant. Almost peaceful. Until he realised the sound he could hear was screaming. Was he making that noise? No, it was too high, there were no sub-harmonics, was that....

_Shepard?_

He clawed back at the darkness,

_Shepard didn't scream, Shepard NEVER screamed!_

But he could hear her now, she was screaming his name. Darkness was dragging him under, drowning him. He fought back, if nothing else, just to make that sound stop. Shepard shouldn't scream. It was wrong. He had to make it stop. She was just about the only person left in the galaxy he cared about, and she'd been dead for two years, and now she was screaming. But it was no use, weights dragged at him, pulling him down into darkness.

 

 


	2. Garrus' last stand, part 2

Shepard didn't hear herself scream, didn't even notice the pain as something in her throat tore.

_No no no no, don't be dead, don't be dead, don't be dead._

The gunship vanished from sight and Shepard threw herself at Garrus. The word 'body' tried to bubble up in her mind, she stomped down on it. Hard. He wasn't dead, she'd only just got him back. He couldn't die now. She knelt down in a steadily increasing pool of blue blood.

“Garrus?” Her shaking hands hovered over him, medic field training suddenly forgotten, drowned out by the sound of her heat hammering in her ears and a sea of blue blood. She wouldn't have known what to do even if she could fully remember, she was pretty sure that basic field dressing and medi-gel were not designed to treat a rocket impact to the damn face. What the hell had he been thinking?! Pushing her down instead of taking cover? And holy crap, there was so much blood. Moving him was bad, she recalled that much, instead she settled for touching the undamaged side of his face, the only part of exposed skin. Watching for the tiniest of movements, the rise and fall of his chest or the twitch of a finger. There was nothing.

The sound of pounding feet made her instinctively reach for her side-arm, she crouched over Garrus' – _not body, he's not dead,_ she told herself firmly – over Garrus, her pistol pointed at the door. Her finger was a hair away from pulling the trigger when Miranda and Zaeed burst into the room,

“Shepard? Are you-” Miranda halted as she spotted Garrus, crumpled in a heap on the floor.

“Well, fuck.” Zaeed muttered, which, in Shepard's opinion, summed it up perfectly. The sound of engines started in the distance, alerting her to the fact that the fight wasn't over yet. Tearing herself away from Garrus' (don't even think the word body) still form, she turned to her squad,

“It's coming back around, take cover.” She ordered, sprinting for the window and sliding under the sill just as the gunship came into view. She swapped out her shotgun for the brand new rocket launcher on her back, “Switch to incendiary ammo, we need to break through the armour shielding. Time your shots, don't take any chances, and let's take this bastard down.” It was rage that was pounding in her ears now, she barely heard Miranda's

“Affirmative.” And Zaeed's,

“Hell yeah.” Over the sound of it,

“Take it in turns, don't give it time to target you. Zaeed?” She called over the sound of the engine.

The gunship appeared in the window as Zaeed swung out of cover, emptying his assault rifle into it's hull. By the time the gunship turned to face him, Zaeed was back in cover and Miranda was on her feet, unloading her semi-automatic pistol into with with a look of determination. A second before Miranda dropped back into cover Shepard popped up, rocket launcher in hand and sent a rocket straight at the cockpit,

“Miranda, warp.” It hit directly after the rocket, immediately followed by bullets from Zaeed's rifle. By the time Zaeed was empty the gunship was smoking, armour rendered useless, and listing heavily to one side. Shepard could see the pilot desperately pulling on the stick, trying to retreat,

“Oh hell no! You're not going anywhere! Zaeed, catch.” Shepard threw her rocket launcher to the old merc, “Miranda, use a throw and hold it.” Shepard jumped to her feet, the violet glow of her biotics coating her fingers. Miranda almost smiled as she realised Shepard's plan, and she launched her throw, Shepard did the same with her pull. The powers clashed, slamming the gunship in the middle, the glass cracked and splintered and the metal creaked as the pilot fought to stay airborne. Shepard's jaw clenched and her hands fisted against the strain,

“Zaeed, now!” She managed to spit through gritted teeth, Zaeed fired the rocket launcher directly at the cockpit. Shepard and Miranda released and the gunship fell to the ground in a twisted ball of metal and flame.

“Fuckin' hell, I ain't ever seen a gunship taken out like that before.” Zaeed almost sounded impressed.

Shepard left the other two at the window to catch their breath and turned back to Garrus, painfully aware he hadn't moved in the entire time they'd been fighting the gunship. The only change was the puddle of blood, which seemed to have grown.

 _Corpse?_ Her brain helpfully supplied, _Carcass? Remains?_

_Shut the fuck up._

“Garrus?”

She knelt back down, shucking off her gloves to try and feel between his plates for a pulse when his eyes flew open, a choked breath rattling from his lungs, “Garrus!” The relief was enough to make her light headed, “We're going to get you out of here, I promise.” Blue eyes, hazy and only semi-focused, locked onto hers. He reached out, fingers groping toward his rifle, Shepard lifted the comforting weight into his hand. Looking confused he pushed the rifle away again, gripping her fingers instead.

Zaeed and Miranda appeared at her shoulder,

“This looks bad,” Zaeed muttered,

“Shepard, he's not going to make it.” Miranda said, her matter of fact tone snapped the last vestiges of Shepard's patience. Since waking up in that damn Cerberus lab all she'd heard was; do this, shoot that, kill them. Don't ask questions. Of course you're still you, ignore the scars. Alright, so maybe she wasn't entirely sure who she was, but she knew damn well who _he_ was, and if Cerberus thought she was going to let him die on this god-forsaken station then they had no idea who they thought they'd saved.

Shepard turned all her anger, fear and frustration on the Cerberus agent, whatever expression she was wearing was enough to cause Miranda to take a step or two backwards,

“You had better make sure he does! Unless Cerberus wants every single credit they spent resurrecting me wasted, then you had damn well better make sure he lives!” She snarled up into Miranda's face, “If he dies, I walk. You can find someone else to fight your fucking war.”

“But Shepard-”

“But nothing, Miranda. Cerberus brought me back from 'meat and tubes', they can damn well do the same again.” Shepard saw her visibly swallow, but she gave the tiniest of nods, that was good enough. It would have to be. Shepard looked away, activating her comm,

“Shepard to Normandy. Joker, come in?”

“Reading you, Commander.” Joker's voice, clear and calm, came over the comm,

“I need an emergency evac, tell Chakwas to prep the med-bay.”

“Shepard, you're in the middle of Omega, how are we-”

“Find a way, Joker.” Shepard interrupted, not unkindly, “It's Garrus.”

“ _Our_ Garrus?! Shit. I'll think of something, on my out. Out.”

“Thanks Joker.” Shepard mumbled, a rush of affection for her pilot adding to the cacophony of emotions that were trying their best to break through, “Hold on Garrus, they're coming.”

 

Shepard turned at the cooking station and started to pace back towards the med-bay windows. How many times had she made that turn? Fifty? A hundred? Every time there was a little swoop in her already queasy stomach, both dreading and hoping that on this turn the blinds on the med-bay window would be open and she could see what was happening inside.

Dr Chakwas had brushed Shepard aside when they'd rushed through The Normandy with Garrus. Actually, 'brushed' might be giving the good Doctor too little credit. Chakwas had had to pry Shepard's fingers off the gurney, forcing Shepard to relinquish her best friend into their hands. If it had been anyone else but Chakwas....well, prying her fingers simply wouldn't have been enough.

Shepard turned again, eyes flitting up to the windows; still closed.

“Just like old times.” Garrus had said, and it had been. Shepard and Vakarian: kicking ass and taking names. If Wrex had been there it would have been a god-damn reunion.

Without realising she was doing it she reached up to her face as she walked, tracing the new scars that ran across her cheeks. For those few, bright, shining moments she'd known exactly who she was; Commander-fucking-Shepard, the woman that eats geth for breakfast, handing mercs their asses with her favourite person in the galaxy. And now, thanks to her, that person was fighting for his life.

So she paced and looked at the window (still covered with it's damn blinds), and tried very hard not to listen to the sickening crunch of rocket on flesh as it rang in her head over and over, or smell the blood that was still splattered all over her armour.

She knew she ought to change, to reassure the crew that all was well. If this had been the SR-1 that's exactly what she _would_ be doing. Shepard made a sound that was somewhere between a bitter bark of laughter and a curse. That was a joke; if this _were_ the SR-1 then she'd have Wrex, Tali, Liara and Kaiden here, pacing with her. This wasn't the SR-1. With it's too bright lights, yellow, white and black colour scheme, and a damned A.I reporting her every move straight back to TIM.

She missed the old crew, she missed the old ship. _Her_ ship. Darker, bluer, filled with voices she knew. This was just an imitation flying the wrong colours.

She turned again. Another pass, the windows were still covered.

She couldn't trust these people. She couldn't trust them to save Garrus, couldn't trust that they weren't sending a mixture into his IV right now that would push him over the edge. What better way to tie her to the Cerberus crew than to dangle her best friend in front of her then have him ripped away again? Did they really expect her to believe that TIM didn't know that Archangel was Garrus? Shepard snorted to herself, she didn't buy that for an instant. With all his money, power and influence there was no way he couldn't have known. Just as he'd known having Joker and Dr Chakwas on board would make her feel more at ease. If he thought he'd slipped _that_ by her, then he had to learn a few things.

She was pretty sure he didn't know about Zaeed, as far as she was aware only Anderson and Chakwas knew about her history with him, hell, not even Garrus knew that story. Shepard stopped mid stride when a realisation hit her like a lightening strike: TIM would win either way. If Garrus died then he thought she would become more attached to the Cerberus crew, if he lived then she would owe Cerberus both his life as well as her own.

_Shit._

And she still needed them to fight the Collectors and save the colonies.

_Shit shit shit._

She ran her hands through her hair and forced herself to breath.

She never had gotten the hang of quietening her mind. What was it Anderson had said to her? One thought at a time? Easier said than done. Her head was the nosiest place she knew, it only ever seemed quieten when she had a shotgun in her hand, and even then it was far from silent.

She kept pacing, the windows were still shuttered.

TIM had to have known how close she and Garrus were on the SR-1. She'd never hidden the fact that beyond the others, even beyond Wrex, it was Garrus she had the closest friendship with. It was him that had sought her out after they'd lost Ash on Virmire. It had been him that had sat with her, mostly in silence, as they drank their way through the night cycle. And several bottles of his shitty turian whiskey. Her that had talked him down from killing Dr Saleon (horosk after that one, still turian but less shitty). He was the first person she'd asked about when talking to TIM, and he must have seen from her extranet searches that she'd tried herself to find him in every database her noisy mind could spit up.

Dammit, she should have been more careful, she may as well have painted a bullseye on his back.

Step, pivot, turn. Window? Nope.

_Breath Shepard, one thought at a time._

She took a deep breath. One, two, three of them.

She'd told Miranda she'd walk if Garrus didn't make it, she was damn sure the Cerberus agent believed her, if the look on Miranda's face was any indication, anyway. They surely didn't go through all the trouble and expense of bringing her back to just let her leave now.

“They'll save him.” Shepard whispered to herself, refusing to acknowledge the comfort of hearing a voice, even if it was her own.

 _And if they don't?_ Some evil little voice asked from the back of her mind. _No matter what threats you made to Miranda, you're not walking away from this. You can lie to Miranda, you can't lie to yourself. You're not going to leave the colonies to be attacked by The Collectors. You can't._ She squished that little voice until it was a puddle.

 _They'll save him, you're being paranoid_ , she told herself.

 _Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're aren't after you,_ the evil little voice sang from its puddle.

“Shut up.” Shepard muttered with a scowl.

She turned again. Glancing at the windows before turning her gaze back to her feet. It took a second for her brain to catch up. She froze, one foot hanging in mid-air. The blinds were open.

She heard the whisk of the med-bay doors opening. The dread and hope that had been battling in her stomach upped their pitch to full on war as Shepard swallowed and forced her feet to carry her forward towards the doors. Dr Chakwas turned to her with a weary smile,

“How did I know you'd be out here, Shepard?” She asked, as unflustered as ever _,_ even with eyes that looked exhausted and her hair dishevelled from the surgery cap.

“Garrus? Is he....” Shepard didn't finish, she wasn't sure she could.

“Garrus will be fine.” For a second Shepard just stood still, starring at the doctor, letting her words sink in.

“Close your mouth, Commander,” Chakwas' said with a kind, if slightly indulgent, smile,

“He's going to be alright?” She asked, just to be sure she'd heard it right the first time.

“I'll be honest, it was touch and go there for awhile. There was extensive trauma, even Garrus can't walk off a direct impact from a rocket, as much as he might claim otherwise. Neither of you is as indestructible as you'd like to think. There will be some severe scarring and I've had to make use of some of implants. But yes, on the whole, Garrus will be fine.” Shepard smiled for what felt like the first time in years as relief flooded her veins,

“Can I see him?” She asked, already trying to skirt her way around Dr Chakwas to the door,

“Not yet.” Chakwas said, holding out her arm to block Shepard's way, “He's still in recovery and not up to visitors.”

“I won't disturb him, I'll-”

“Garrus is still unconscious from the surgery.”

“I just want to-”

“Shepard,” Chakwas interrupted, for a moment looking stern before the expression softened and she laid a hand on top of Shepard's arm, “Remember this comes from a place of respect and friendship, but I'd be remiss if I remained silent. You look terrible. You've been waiting here for hours. I only left Garrus long enough to reassure you in the hopes you'd be able to rest.”

“I will, right after-”

“In the time you've been here, how many other crew members have come into the mess?” Shepard tried to think when she'd last seen someone. Chakwas raised an eyebrow with a soft chuckle and Shepard had to concede, she didn't think a single person had walked in. “As I suspected. I imagine they're all afraid of their Commander, stalking around the ship and looking as though she's going to shock-wave the first person that speaks to her.”

“I'm not going to-”

“I know that Shepard, I know. And so does Joker, Garrus and Zaeed. But the others? They don't know you, not the real you. They only know the stories, and even those have been twisted and exaggerated. They know what they've heard. Even without Sovereign your service record is intimidating; what you did on Elysium is practically a legend. Garrus doesn't need you right now, but the crew does. It needs it's Commander.” Shepard looked down at herself again, still splattered with blue blood, armour dented and singed, before glancing once again around the abandoned mess hall with it's too bright lights. Chakwas was right, she realised with a sigh. Cerberus couldn't be trusted. TIM was (she was convinced) just down-right evil. But these people, this crew? They were here, putting their asses on the line to stop The Collectors. Whatever ulterior motives TIM had (she wasn't foolish enough to believe the altruistic bullshit he'd tried to feed her) _he_ wasn't here. _She_ was. _They_ were.

 _They're not your people,_ the voice in her head reminded her,

_Not yet. But they could be._

Could she turn them around? If she could turn them from Cerberus and make them her own? Hell, at least half of them were ex-Alliance, there were bridges there to mend. She just had to find the way to do it. And whatever that way was, it certainly wasn't scaring them away from areas with her obvious craziness.

“I'll - you're right, I'll make my rounds.”

“Shepard?” Chakwas said, with a cough that wasn't the least bit convincing, “Shower, rest, _then_ rounds. Doctors orders.”

“You're the boss, Doc.” Shepard said, she tried to grin at her old friend, she didn't think it was very convincing but it was better than nothing. With a promise to alert her if Garrus' situation changed, Shepard headed for the slow-ass elevator (another thing that annoyed her, _what was wrong with the stairs??_ ) and her quarters. Chakwas was right; she was the Commander, it was about time she acted like it.

 

A few hours and much showering later, Shepard had finished her rounds and was waiting for her de-brief on the mission. She ran through the names of the crew members in her head, trying to commit every face and name to memory. The little things mattered. Anderson had been great at this and she'd learned early on to copy his example. She'd known every detail of the people she'd served with before, made a point of knowing it, actually. She remembered which crew member was a cat person, which one baked, what their kids were called.

As it had done a few times already, it hit home again that two years had passed. It only felt like days since she'd talked to these people. She shook the thought away and went back to running names in her head, she was determined to get to know this crew just as well. If she was going to turn them into _her_ people instead of The Illusive Man's then she needed to at least remember their damn names.

Aimlessly she tugged a little at the Cerberus logo on the arm of her new uniform. EVERYTHING had that damn logo on it. Except for the ridiculous farmer dungarees that kept returning like a bad penny. Somehow that outfit managed to turn up in her wardrobe no matter who's ship she happened to be on. Would it have killed them to throw a few t-shirts in there? Or, god-forbid, jeans?? She was idly wondering if her progress with Kelly (psychiatrist, sister has a dog sanctuary) Chambers was enough to beg her to source new clothing when Jacob walked in. Clothing and Cerberus were immediately forgotten,

“No Miranda?” Shepard asked, surprised her self-appointed second in command wasn't here for their first de-brief,

“No. Miranda is, um, busy.” Shepard pulled a face, she definitely had some ground to make up there, she already suspected Miranda would be a much harder nut to crack than Jacob.

“Still pissed about how I spoke to her on Omega, huh?”

“Not pissed. Unaccustomed.” Jacob laughed at Shepard's second pulled face, “Give her time, Shepard. Miranda isn't used to not being the one calling the shots. She'll come around.”

“Right. I'm sure it'll be that easy.” Shepard said, sarcasm dripping from every word.

“Sure it will. Or, you know, you're the boss. Just order her to like you.”

“Yep, that'll go down great, thanks for the advice. So, where do we stand?” Shepard asked, trying to steer the conversation back on track. She wanted to swing by the med-bay after this and check in. She hadn't heard from Chakwas and was having to resist checking her omni-tool for a message every few seconds,

“We recruited both Zaeed and Arcang - Garrus, sorry, for the mission. We'll need to remain close to Omega so we can go recruit the salarian professor. So far it's been relatively successful. As far as Garrus' injuries go, I'm sure you're well aware of his progress. We did what we could, but he took a bad hit.” _Thanks Jacob, rub it in,_ Shepard thought before she could stop herself, “The Doc's corrected with surgical procedures and some cybernetics.” He continued, “Best we can tell he'll have full functionality but-”

They both turned as the doors opened. As much as she had promised herself to be careful and not make him even more of a target, she couldn't halt the smile when Garrus appeared in the doorway,

“Shepard.” He said, as though he hadn't just taken a damn rocket to the face,

“Tough son of a bitch, didn't think he'd be up yet.” Jacob said, Shepard was sure she heard a hint of admiration in his voice,

“Nobody would give me a mirror. How bad is it?” Garrus asked, walking into the room with his usual swagger. Damn, she'd missed that swagger. Leaning back onto one hip and still fighting her smile, Shepard replied,

“Hell Garrus, you were always ugly. Slap some face-paint on there and no one will even notice.” His laughter was enough for her to lose he fight with her smile again, laughing along with him,

“Don't make me laugh, damn it. My face is barely holding together as it is.” Shepard winked at him and swore to herself to make him laugh as much as possible. Would serve him right for scaring her half to death, “Some women find facial scars attractive.” He said, “Mind you, most of those women are krogan...”

“I'll leave you to it, we can finish this later, Shepard.” Jacob said, when Shepard nodded her response he gave her a crisp salute, making her roll her eyes.

 _OK, that's gonna be the first thing to go_ , she thought as he left the room.

“Frankly, I'm more worried about you.” Garrus said as soon as the doors closed, “Cerberus-”

“You still running with your old M-92 Mantis, Garrus?” Shepard interrupted, keeping her tone as light as her words while starring intently into his eyes, keeping her fingers crossed he'd get the message and play along. He cocked his head to one side in a silent question, “How many times do I have to tell you the Viper is the way to go?”

“Erm, yeah. The Mantis is a classic.” Shepard almost sighed her relief, he still looked confused but he seemed to be getting the idea, “Besides, you carry a shotgun Shepard, don't pretend you know what you're talking about. Sniping requires finesse.”

“And shotguns don't?” She fired back, getting a sudden burst of inspiration she stepped closer, “Look at the size of my hands compared with yours, I could barely hold one of your sniper rifles without dropping the damn thing.” Under the guise of comparing hand sizes, she used one finger to trace the word 'Bug' on his palm and gave him a meaningful look. She saw his eyes widen in surprise before swiftly narrowing in anger, “You see my problem?” She asked, tone still light. Hopefully the double meaning would be lost on anyone listening in,

“I can see how that would be, um, difficult. Yes.” Garrus replied, returning her look,

“If you wanna see a really big gun I could take you to the main battery? That's where the Normandy's new cannon is.”

“Sure, Shepard. Although, they say size doesn't matter, it's what you do with it that counts.” She didn't have to fake the snort and head shake that followed his double entendre,

“I'll show you mine if you show me yours?”

“And here I thought you weren't interested in snipers.”

Shit, she'd missed playfully flirting with Garrus as much as she'd missed his swagger.

 

She led him along to the main battery, getting more than a few raised eyebrows from the Cerberus crew along the way. For a moment Shepard wondered if Garrus was the first alien to ever step aboard a Cerberus ship. Judging by the wary looks they were getting from the crew, she wouldn't be the least bit surprised. A few hours ago she'd have lifted her chin and ignored it, but in the spirit of building bridges, she met their eyes. Surprisingly, more than a few of the stares were curiosity, she realised, not hostility. It was a start at least.

 

“Alright, I'll give Cerberus it's due: that's a pretty impressive gun.” Garrus said with a nod of approval once they'd arrived at the main battery,

“I'm sure you'll come up with improvements.” She could already see his hands were itching to get to work. She opened the search function she'd downloaded onto her onmi-tool from when she'd de-bugged her own quarters and silently showed it to him. He raised a brow plate at her and gave her a look that was so condescending it could rival the turian councillors, then opened his own, much better, search programme and they got to work,

“So, how've you been?” Shepard asked, trying to keep up their benign conversation so as not to alert TIM or anyone else who might be listening in,

“Oh, you know: wiping out merc bands, taking down slavers, stopping red sand shipments, the usual.”

“ _That's_ your usual?”

“What can I say Shepard, I like to keep busy. You?”

“Oh, you know: dead.” She had her back to him so didn't see him wince, but she heard it in his sudden stillness and sharp intake of breath.

_Shit, that was supposed to be a joke._

After a few beats of silence, in which neither of them moved, Garrus cleared his throat,

“Sounds like it's been fun all around.” The levity had vanished from his voice and his sub-harmonics tried to tell her something she didn't quite understand, but heavily hinted at pain. It was Shepard's turn to wince, she really wished she could take the words back but the damage had been done.

They finished sweeping the battery in silence until they eventually had a small pile of bugs and surveillance equipment in front of them. Shepard was surprised EDI hadn't piped up to tell them not to remove the bugs, perhaps the same restrictions that prevented the A.I from telling Shepard about the bugs in the first place extended to not allowing her to tell them off too? Point in their favour, Shepard guessed with a shrug. One overload from Garrus' omni-tool later and all that was left was a few shards of metal and plastic,

“There was one there I didn't recognise, you may need to use your fancy programme to give my quarters another sweep.” Shepard said, crushing the last few bits with the heel of her boot,

“No problem, and hey, while I'm up there....” Garrus lifted a brow plate suggestively at her, Shepard started laughing but part way through her throat started to close, horrified she realised she was on the verge of tears.

 _Oh hell no,_ she tried to control it, _I'm Commander Shepard, and Commander Shepard DOES NOT cry!_

Garrus' arms moved, it was barely more than a twitch, but from him it may as well have been a neon sign. Without hesitation she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his narrow waist. As his encircled her back she realised this was the first time since waking up in that Cerberus lab that someone had touched her in a way that wasn't either medical or life-threatening. She pushed all thoughts of Cerberus resolutely from her mind and just absorbed, basking in the happiness of having her best friend back, even if it was just temporary. Turians might be all hard plates and spikes, but damn if they didn't give the best hugs.

When she stepped away again her eyes were clear,

“You can't be here, Garrus.”

“But we just de-bugged it, if I get a cot in here it'll be practically cosy.”

“Very funny. I mean _here_ here, with Cerberus. I've made you a target, TIM will-”

“TIM?”

“The Illusive Man,” Shepard explained, grinning in spite of herself, “It makes meetings with him slightly more palatable if I'm calling him TIM in my head.”,

“Ha,” Garrus laughed, “One small act of rebellion at a time. You disconnected on him yet?”

“Not yet, but it's only a matter of time. Speaking of things that are only a matter of time,” She continued, refusing to let him change the subject, “it's dangerous for you here, you can't stay. He wants me tied to the Cerberus crew, how long do you think it'll be before you have a convenient “accident”?”

“I'll take my chances.” He shrugged,

“Garrus, I'm serious.”

“And you think I'm not? Bitch and moan all you like, I'm not going anywhere.” He leant back onto one hip, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You're a walking bullseye!”

“Because that's a new experience for both of us.” He said sarcastically, “Isn't a death wish usually a prerequisite for The Normandy?”

“Alright, that wasn't funny.” She muttered, even as she felt her lips twitch,

“Yes it was. And if you think I'm leaving you here with Cerberus, then you've lost your mind.”

“I'm walking into hell here Garrus, literally and figuratively. I refuse to drag you along with me.”

“You need me.” He said, Shepard threw her arms up in frustration,

“Need you? Of course I _need_ you. I've always needed you, probably always will.”

“ _Probably_?”

Shepard swore in her head, if swagger had a voice then that was it, cocky bastard.

“Needing you isn't the issue. The issue is that you've already taken a rocket to the face and I'm not prepared to watch the next one finish you off.” He dropped his hands to point at her chest,

“And _I've_ had to live for two years with the fact that you died without me watching your back, and _I'm_ not prepared to do _that_ again.”

“The Normandy went down, what were you going to do? Snipe the damn Collector ship out of the sky?”

“Couldn't have hurt.”

“Garrus-”

“Shepard, look, I -” He sighed and brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose before scrubbing it down his face, “I can't _not_ be there. I can't _not_ be there if something happens again. I need to be here, alright? If you're walking into hell then you're doing it with me at your six.”

He stared her down, arms crossed back over his chest and mandibles pulled tight to his face.

She wasn't going to win this argument, she realised, and a rather selfish part of her didn't want to.

“Bloody stubborn-ass turian.” She saw his mandibles relax slightly, twitching into the turian equivalent of a grin,

“Bloody stupid-ass squishy human.”

“Hey! That's Commander stupid-ass squishy human.”

“Ma'am, yes ma'am.” Garrus laughed before hissing through his teeth, “Ow, what did I say about making me laugh.”

Shepard reached up and ever so gently ran the tips of her fingers along the underside of the bandage,

“I'm sorry, if I'd been faster...”

“You'll be a lot sorrier when we're fighting off hordes of female krogan.” The humour was for her more than him but, as much as she appreciated him trying to make her feel better, she was serious. Despite the jokes, the flirting and the swagger, she knew he must be in a lot of pain. And not just because of the rocket,

“I'm sorry about Omega too, I should have been there. Maybe we could've-”

“Don't.” Garrus cut her off sharply, probably more sharply than he intended because when he spoke again his voice had softened, “Don't be sorry about that. Please.” Guilt and pain thrummed in his sub-vocals. Shepard always wondered if he knew just how much she understood the various hums he made, but she had a feeling he didn't want her to understand this one so she kept her silence. She looked down at her feet as the silence stretched on, 'I should go' was on the tip of her tongue when he tiled her chin up with his own fingers, looking at the scars that she'd been left with on her cheeks. They ran across most of her body, the ones on her back and shoulders were particularly painful after spending all day rolling around in her armour. They glowed faintly red, a friendly reminder of her two lost years every time she caught sight of her reflection. She wasn't a vain woman, scars had never bothered her before, but these ones were different; ugly in a way that had nothing to do with disfigurement. She shifted her eyes from Garrus', suddenly concerned she'd see revulsion in them. It was ridiculous of course, Garrus didn't care what she looked like, even if, on more than one occasion, she'd wished he would. Unfortunately idle day dreams did not make her any less of a squishy human,

“I, erm, I wasn't finished.” She hated how small her voice sounded, she cleared her throat, pleased when her voice sounded stronger, “I was dead, Cerberus re-build me pretty much from scratch. Lot's of cybernetics and, I don't know what the mathematical equivalent of a shit-ton is, but it was a shit-ton of credits. But I wasn't finished when they had to wake me up, hence the whole Night of the Living Dead look I'm sporting. Doc thinks they'll fade but I know they're pretty hideous, probably even by krogan standards.”

“They're no rocket to the face.” Garrus shrugged, releasing her chin as though it was no big deal. Shepard searched his face, looking for even a hint of a lie but didn't find one. The ugly scars truly didn't seem to bother him,

“Scars should be earned.” She'd had several before Cerberus had rebuilt her, they were gone now, along with one or two other things that were more personal. She scowled a little and tried to turn it into a shrug before Garrus noticed, “They're supposed to be a mark of survival.”

“You spent two years dead, Shepard. Those scars _are_ earned _._ ” Alright, he had her there, “Why did they do it? Cerberus, I mean. Not that I'm complaining or anything.”

“Do what?” She scoffed, “Bring me back to life, give me a ship, a crew, pretty much endless resources? Pretty generous, right?”

“Exactly, so what's the catch?”

“You mean apart from staring death in the face every day?”

“That's a given.”

“I don't know, yet. There will be one obviously, but I haven't figured it out. Cerberus want me to stop The Collectors; they're abducting colonists, exclusively human ones in the terminus systems. Entire colonies are just vanishing without a trace. I'm going to stop them. That is, as you said, a given. But...”

“But it _is_ Cerberus.”

“Yep, so there's bound to be something else, something in it for TIM, I'm just not seeing it.”

“So I take it we're not trusting Cerberus?”

“We are not. I've not forgotten what they've done.”

“Good,” Garrus said with a nod, “I've heard a lot of bad things about them over the last couple of years.”

“Unfortunately, right now they're a necessary evil. I need their resources.”

“Show me what you've got.” She started to pull up the files on her omni-tool, sending him anything that might be of use when Garrus chuckled,

“Shepard and Vakarian walking back into hell. Just like old times.”

With Garrus at her side, Shepard thought maybe it really would be.

 


	3. Tech Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard really is rubbish with tech!

For the first bleary moments Garrus wasn't sure what had woken him up, then the incessant - and rather annoying - chime of his onmi-tool sounded again. He wasn't entirely ready to admit defeat on the idea of a full nights sleep so, refusing to open his eyes, he swatted blindly at his wrist. Twice. Somehow he managed to miss both times.

 _And you call yourself a sniper?_ He grumbled sleepily at himself, _embarrassing._

He couldn't quite muster the energy for a third attempt and settled on just hoping it would go away.

After working on The Normandy's weapons for fourteen hours straight, he'd finally fallen into his bunk, exhausted, and was asleep almost immediately. He'd been in a deep sleep too, complete with dreams he couldn't really remember.

Real sleep had become somewhat of a luxury lately. The uncomfortable Cerberus issue bunk didn't really lend itself to a good nights rest. It squeaked horribly when he rolled onto his back, it even drowned out the sound of his groan and the crack of his neck. It was enough to make him think almost longingly of the sleep pods on the SR-1, complete with snoring Krogan. Garrus groaned again, if he was thinking favourably of trading this bunk with Wrex's snoring then things must be bad. Unlike the sleep pods, these bunks had been designed solely with humans in mind.

 _Only an evil organisations would have beds this crappy._ He remembered thinking to himself the night before, as he'd contorted himself into all sorts of strange positions to get even remotely comfortable. The thin, unyielding mattress hadn't been designed to accommodate his crest or carapace. The beds in the crew quarters looked marginally better, but Garrus was pretty sure he'd find himself just as sleepless there, albeit for different reasons. Dropping his guard around the Cerberus crew enough to sleep simply wasn't something that was going to happen. At least not yet.

His omni-tool chimed again, this time he actually managed to open his eyes, only to slam them closed again; the bright orange light was extremely jarring in the dimness of the forward battery. The ceiling lights were on a timer, synced to that of the Citadel, and were only dark during the night cycle,

 _Who the hell is calling me at this hour?_ He wondered, but he already knew the answer to that question.

It could really only be one person.

How she functioned on the small amount of sleep she managed to get was beyond him. He didn't bother to check the I.D, just flung one arm over his eyes and opened the comm,

“This had better be good, Shepard.” He said in lieu of greeting, not bothering to hide the sleepy rough edge to his sub-vocals,

“Sorry big guy, I know you get cranky if you don't get your beauty sleep.” She replied, her chirpy voice in sharp context to his own, he imagined he could hear the smile in her voice.

Garrus could hear wind buffeting her headset, she was having to raise her voice to heard over it, he'd been expecting her to be calling him from upstairs. Had a mission been scheduled for today? His brain hadn't fully kicked in yet, but he didn't think so,

“Where are you?” He asked with a slight frown,

“I'm planet-side, trying to fix a colony's solar panel: some batarian pirates sabotaged it. I heard their SOS while I was looking for new mining locations.”

“You were looking for new mining locations? In the middle of the night?”

“Day and night are subjective. It's a bright, sunny afternoon down here.”

“And?” He drew the word out, waiting for the real reason she was fixing solar panels instead of getting some much needed rest.

“And I couldn't sleep.” She admitted, her voice hadn't lost any of it's chirpiness but there was defiantly an edge of _don't push this, Garrus_ in there that he knew only he'd pick up on.

“Again?”

 _To hell with the warning tone,_ he thought, _I'll blame it on sleep deprivation if she asks_.

Shepard hadn't slept well in the entire time Garrus had known her, since Cerberus had brought her back it only seemed to have gotten worse.

“Just feeling a little wired, big guy. Don't worry about it.”

Garrus knew that if she were stood in front of him then she'd be waving a flippant hand, one side of her mouth pulled up in a smile.

He hadn't really been expecting a serious answer, especially since they both suspected their comms were being monitored, but he made a mental note to bring it up again the next time she came down to his quarters. Clear heads and sleep deprivation didn't generally go hand-in-hand.

“You need to find some other way to work off your nocturnal energy, Shepard.”

“Is that a proposition?” She laughed,

“Not at this hour it isn't.” He said around a yawn, “You'll need to give me a couple of minutes.”

“A whole two minutes?” She whistled, “Way to represent turian stamina, big guy.”

“I'm pretty sure the Collectors don't have to put up with crap like this.”

“You thinking of switching sides?”

“If they can get me a turian mattress, then I'll seriously consider it.” He grumbled, making her laugh again. He stretched his neck until it gave a satisfying crack, human pillows really did leave much to be desired, “Why didn't you come get me? I'd've gone to the colony with you.”

“It was early, or late depending on your perspective, I didn't want to wake you up.”

“And yet here you are, waking me up anyway.”

“I get the irony. But it's the thought that counts.”

“Yeah? Can you tell what I'm thinking right now?”

“That is no way to think about your commanding officer, Vakarian.” The mock stern tone vanished as she added, “Kinky though.”

Garrus chuckled,

“Did you wake me up just to see if I'm still charming when I'm half asleep, or...?”

“So you might recall that tech doesn't really play to my strengths.”

 _That's putting it mildly,_ he thought and scoffed down the comm, he could have sworn he actually heard Shepard roll her eyes.

“I have a vague recollection, yes.” He said, remembering the many, _many_ , attempts he and Tali had made to educate Shepard on tech. She may know thirty different ways to kill a person of any species with nothing but her bare hands. She may be able to charm everyone she came across, be they krogan or asari. She may even be able to deconstruct a threat or battlefield better and faster than anyone else Garrus had ever met, but put anything more complicated than a disassembled omni-tool in front of her and she was at a loss. She was far from unintelligent, in fact she had a brilliant mind, it just didn't work in that way.

 _She doesn't need it to work in that way, she has me._ The thought made him feel oddly warm.

“Well I may, or may not, have bitten off more than I can chew here.” She continued, “It seemed simple enough when I pulled up the diagnostic on my omni-tool, the reality doesn't quite meet my expectations.”

“You're calling me for tech help?! The great Commander Shepard, hero of the battle of the Citadel, scourge of the Reapers, has been defeated by a solar panel?” He teased,

“Hey, it's hard.”

“Well, I _did_ just wake up.”

There was a beat of silence before Shepard picked up on his innuendo and snorted laughter down the comm. Garrus grinned up at the ceiling; if TIM wanted to listen in on their conversation, then Garrus would do his best to make him regret it. Besides, it made Shepard laugh, and that was always good,

“Oh, my god.” She groaned,

“That's usually the response I get,” He said, completely unable to help himself, “But it's normally louder, with -”

“I'm gonna call someone else,” She interrupted, “I'm hanging up.”

“Oh please, you love it.”

“I know you can't see me right now, but you should know I'm giving you the finger.”

“Now who's kinky?”

“Are you going to help me or continue to be a smart ass?”

“I can't do both?”

“Garrus!”

“Alright, alright.” Garrus rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and propped himself up into a semi-sitting position, “Can you patch me into your helmet cam so I can see what you see?”

“Ah, I was kinda hoping you wouldn't ask me that. I didn't bring one.”

“You don't have your helmet with you?” He asked, more than a little surprised. Shepard was meticulous about her kit, especially her armour. It was one of the few rules on the Normandy; weapons and armour were expected to be 100% at all times. She never, _never_ , scrimped on equipment. She bought them the best, always had. She was fond of telling them that maintenance could be the difference between coming home and not. So she never left the ship without her full kit. Though now that he thought about it, he didn't think he'd seen her wear a helmet since... “Shit.” He muttered aloud. He hadn't seen her wear a helmet, or anything over her face, since Alchera.

She, of course, knew exactly where his mind had gone.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Why the hell haven't you said anything?”

“It's not a big deal, really. It's stupid. I know it's stupid.” She laughed a small self-deprecating chuckle, “I just – it's not that I can't. I _can_ wear it – just if I can avoid it, you know? It's nothing. I'll get over it.”

“We need to talk, Shepard.” He said gently.

“I'm fine.”

“Shepard -”

“Look – yeah, OK, we will. Just – just not now. Alright?” She was brushing him off, and they both knew it. Garrus hovered on the brink of trying to pull the truth from her, but managed to stop himself. He didn't think her lack of explanation was purely down their potentially unsecure comm.

 _Maybe she isn't ready to talk about it yet?_ He thought with a sigh, _that_ he could understand; there were a few things he hadn't spoken about lately too.

“I'm fine. Really.” She repeated when he continued to hesitate. Garrus knew all too well that how fine Shepard _was_ and how fine Shepard _thought she was,_ were two very different things.

 _She'll talk to you when she's ready, Vakarian._ He told himself sternly, _And that certainly isn't going to be when she's trying to fix a colony's damn solar panel._

“Alright, but I'm not going to let this go forever.” He warned her, “If there's no cam you'll have to describe it to me. What are we looking at?”

“This thing is huge, a few dozen feet off the ground on a metal platform. There's a central computer with three others branching off. The cooling system is on my left, shields to my right and generator in front.”

Garrus was familiar with the set up, it had been a few years since he'd seen one, it was a little out of date, but he knew enough to at least give them a place to start.

“The easiest way for them to sabotage it would to take the cooling system offline, if the panels overheat then they'll just automatically shut down.”

“Alright, cooling system it is.” He could hear the sound of her boots on the metal structure, he waited for her to stop.

“Take the front panel off and tell me what's underneath.” He instructed. The sound of the wind dropped considerably once she was sheltered behind the cooling system.

“There's a metal grate, a bunch of wires, a small panel with buttons and a retractable steel shaft.”

“How big is the shaft?” He asked, Shepard snickered and he rolled his eyes, “Not helping, Shepard.”

“It has a handle on top, looks like it's recently been pulled from it's housing.”

That's the reset switch then, Garrus decided. If the reset switch was out of it's housing then there was no doubt it was the cooling system they'd sabotaged, it was a simple enough fix.

“I'm sending you a bypass.” He told her, bracing himself for the harsh orange light of his omni-tool, at least he was awake enough now not to have to squint at the light, “Scan the interface – the panel with the buttons - then upload the bypass and let it do it's thing. It'll identify the problem, I can remote in from here and correct it for you.”

“See? That doesn't seem all that complicated.”

“That's because I already wrote, complied and edited the code, Shepard.” He said dryly, “You're just getting the finished product.”

“Ah.” He could almost hear her shrug, “I prefer problems I can just shoot with my shotgun.”

“Please don't shoot the solar panels.”

“I wasn't planning on it. OK, the bypass is running.” His bypass would only take a few seconds, but this reminded him of something,

“I've been meaning to ask, how did you really get that mech on Omega to attack the mercs?” He'd been impressed at the time, thinking maybe she really had picked up one or two of the tech tips he'd taught her, this little experience was proving that theory wrong,

“What do you mean?” She asked, feigned innocence lacing her voice, “I hacked it of course, you have so little faith.”

“Shepard? Remember who you're talking to.”

“Alright, if you must know, they were working on it so I could see all the inner-workings. I just spotted the mech's friend or foe identifier and...adjusted it.”

“Adjusted?”

“Fine. I hit it with a hammer. Happy now?”

“Very.” He chuckled.

“Subtlety also isn't one of my strengths.”

“I'd noticed.”

“But on the plus side your bypass is done, and I didn't even shoot anything.”

“Your restraint is admirable.” He said, watching the lines of code start to filter onto the small screen of his omni-tool. Whatever hack the pirates had used on the cooler to the solar panel was a simple one, once he knew what he was looking for it only took Garrus a few moments to fix it, “Alright, that should be it.” He told Shepard, “Now just push that steel shaft back into it's housing.”

“OK, one second.” He heard movement again on her end then by a small bang, “It's stuck.”

“This isn't even tech, Shepard.” He exaggerated an exasperated sigh so she could hear it, “Is it in yet?”

“Not what a girl wants to hear, Vakarian.” She muttered, followed by a few curses in a rather impressive mixture of turian, krogan and quarian, then a louder bang,

“Tell me you didn't shoot it.” Garrus groaned,

“I didn't shoot it,” She said defensively. Garrus cleared his throat and waited her out, “I punched it.” She finished, rather sheepishly,

“Oh, that's much better.”

“Very funny. But it's in now.”

“Good. If you're done manhandling the shaft, you can reboot back at the main console.”

He heard her boots on the metal floor as she made her way back to the centre of the platform. He gave her a few minutes of quiet to work, occupying himself by scrolling though the list of things he'd need to make the adjustments he wanted to the Normandy's cannon.

 _It's probably a good thing Shepard is spending so much time looking for mining locations instead of sleeping,_ he thought with a wince, the list of what he needed seemed to grow every time he looked at it. It would be worth it in the end. The Normandy would need top-of-the-line weaponry if they were going to stand a chance against a Collector ship. _If we can just get out hands on some –_ the sound of the solar panels powering up interrupted his thoughts. Shepard gave out a small, satisfied (albeit slightly surprised) sounding whoop.

“It's working! Thanks Garrus.” She said, sounding more than a little pleased with herself. Garrus smiled and stopped himself from reminding her that she'd only managed it with him walking her through it. The happiness in her voice made it an easy thing to do, “You can go back to sleep now, and I'll see you in a few –” She went suddenly silent mid-sentence,

“You pressed something you shouldn't have, didn't you?” He asked, letting weariness he didn't really feel slip into his voice,

“No, I don't think so.” She muttered, he heard her tapping away on a few keys before her mutter turned into alarm, “Oh crap, that can't be good.”

“What? What happened?” He asked sharply, sitting up straight on the bunk,

“I must have triggered something,” He could hear frantic movement, the sound of armour and metal, “There's a countdown. Dammit, I think it's a bomb.” Garrus' heart skipped a beat. All thoughts of the Normandy's cannons or catching a few more hours sleep vanished in an instant.

“Shepard, you need to get out of there, right now!” He barked,

“I'm not going anywhere; if this rig blows then it's taking half the colony with it. The batarian's must have set it to trigger when the panel came back online.”

“Then I'll come to you, just -” Garrus was already on his feet and reaching for his armour,

“No time. I have four minutes. I could reverse my barriers but I don't think they're strong enough to contain a blast like this.”

“Contain?” It took a few beats of his heart for him to realise exactly what she meant, then a cold chill ran down his neck, “You mean contain it _within_ your own barriers? Shepard, no, you'd be incinerated!”

“Which is, I'll admit, less than ideal.”

“Shepard -”

“So we're going to disarm it.”

_Disarm it?? She couldn't even fix a simple hack!_

“You can't disarm a -”

“You had bomb disposal training in C-Sec, right?” She spoke over him sharply, “We both know I'm crap with tech, I need you to talk me through it. We can do this, but not if we keep wasting time. I need you at my six right now, Vakarian. We've got this.”

“Dammit.” He growled, _of all the times for her not to have her damn helmet cam_ , he cursed to himself. He forced himself to breath. Getting angry was not going to get that bomb disarmed and there was no way a colony could evacuate in under four minutes. “OK, tell me what you've got.”

“The central monitor is showing a countdown, but little else.”

“The trigger and explosives will be on a -”

“Structural weakness.” She finished for him, he could hear her feet pounding on the metal platform before she'd finished speaking, “I'm on it.”

Garrus heard the screech of hinges and he imagined the little-used exit hatch in the floor being thrown open. The sound of the wind increased as she stuck her head through to look,

“I see it!” She shouted over the gale, “It's attached to the support column, if the bomb blows then the entire platform's going to come down.”

“Can you get to it?”

“With mag boots, yeah.” He heard her heave herself through the hatch and the heavy clunk of her mag boots on the metal. It seemed to take forever as he waited for her to cross to the support column and latch herself to the grating. The forward battery was much too small for adequate pacing, but he barely noticed as he blinding passed back and forth in front of his forgotten bunk, “Right, I'm there.” She said eventually, “There's, wow, yeah that's a lot of C4. I've got a rectangular steel case, briefcase size, it has a keypad and a countdown on it. Also a glass jar full of ball-bearings, I'm assuming that's on a secondary trigger, a security measure in case someone tries to disarm the bomb.” Garrus' stomach did a sickly roll as the image of what that harmless looking jar of ball-bearings could do at such short range; Shepard's armour was the best money could buy, and it would be shredded in less than a second, “You still with me, Vakarian?”

“I've got you.” He tried to think but worry and fear were muddling his thoughts, turning normal quick decisions slow and sluggish. He screwed his eyes closed and brought his hand up to pinch his forehead, trying to damnedest to concentrate and not panic about the idea of Shepard being caught in the explosion, “The steel case, it has wires coming out of it that feed up to the explosives?”

“Yes, should I -”

“Not yet.” He barked, his hand shooting out of it's own accord as though he could reach through the comm line and catch her wrist. He took another deep breath and forced his voice back into it's usual tone, “Look around the edge of the panel facing you, do you see any scuffs and scrapes? Anything that looks like it might be a sealant?”

“Yes, there's some residue here. It's overflowed the join.”

“Damn.” Of course it couldn't be as simple as cutting a few wires, “Alright, then the top is a dummy. It needs to come off. Take your combat knife and run it carefully around the edge and break the seal, in theory it should just lift straight off.”

“In theory?” Shepard laughed nervously,

“I've only ever done this in theory. You're only going to want to lift it enough to see underneath, if you lift it too high then you're going to trip that security measure you noticed.”

“Ah, shrapnel. Perfect.”

“All we need to do is separate the trigger from the C4, no trigger no explosion.” There was a scratch of metal on metal as he heard her scrape her knife around the edge of the panel.

“Almost got it.”

“How we doing for time, Shepard?”

“Two minutes twenty seconds.”

“There's still time, be careful and -” Even over the sound of the wind he heard her gasp, “What?? Shepard, you OK?!”

“Yeah, butter fingers. Almost dropped the cover, I've got it now, the jar's still intact.”

“Don't do that again.” He groaned, heart hammering somewhere in the region of his throat,

“You sure?” She asked, oozing sarcasm, “Don't want me to do it again just for kicks?” He heard her jostle the panel around, it hit the mike a few times as she rested it against her chest, “I can see underneath, there's a lot of wires. These guys have never heard the term cable management.”

“You can lecture the pirates on the proper way to wire bombs once this is disarmed. Ignore any wires going to the dummy panel, cutting any of those will detonate it. There should be another keypad inside, possibly hidden or tucked into a corner.”

“I see it.”

“How many wires coming from that one?”

“Five.”

“Five?!” He'd been hoping for two, expecting three and dreading four.

“Is that bad?”

“Well, it's not good. Can you follow one to the C4?”

“Three go to the C4, blue, brown and red, they branch off out of my line of sight. A yellow one goes to the death jar.”

“Don't call it the death jar, I can only fight off one heart attack at a time. We're going to take out the secondary security device first. Cut that wire and only that wire.”

“The one going to the death jar?”

“I swear, if you survive this, I'm going to kill you. The yellow wire, cut the yellow wire.”

Garrus stood frozen mid-pace in the middle of the forward battery, his hands curled into tight fists at his sides. If he was wrong -

 _You're not wrong._ He told himself, _This is textbook; security devices get disarmed first._

 _And if you_ are _wrong, if they've anticipated this, then you're about to hear your best friend be shredded by a thousand steel ball-bearings travelling at close to 500 meters per second._

_Shit._

He held his breath as he heard the jostle of the panel again and the scrape of her amour as she reached around the case.

 _But what if –_ The little voice of doubt in his head started to ask,

 _I'm right,_ He told it firmly, _I know this._

“Almost got it.” He heard Shepard mutter, it sounded like it was more to herself than to him. _She,_ at least, didn't sound like she doubted him.

Those few seconds seemed to drag into hours as he starred unseeingly at the wall, half of him expecting to hear an explosion at any moment.

“Come on, Shepard.” He murmured under his breath, it was half to her and half a prayer, “You've got this.”

“OK, yellow wire is...cut.” He released the breath and was almost sure he heard Shepard do the same. A shrill sound escaped his chest; a odd mixture of left over panic and relief, “We're not done yet.” She reminded him, picking up on the relief in his sub-vocals, “Ninety seconds on the clock. Three wires left going to the C4.”

 _So Shepard's death jar - I'm never going to not be able to think of it in any other way, thanks for that Shepard - wasn't going to pose a problem, but she, along with half a colony will be just as dead if we don't disarm that C4_.

Panic tried to work it's way back up into his mind and cloud his thoughts. He pushed it right back where it came from as best as he could,

“Right; blue, brown and red.” He said, more to himself than to her. If only he could see it then -

 _Logic, Vakarian._ He ordered himself. _You can't see it. Let her be your eyes. If she says there's three wires then there's three wires._

“Which one is the trigger?” She asked,

_The damn trigger. Triggers don't have three wires! That just isn't how it works._

“I don't -” He started before cutting himself off.

 _I don't know_ was what he want to say. But he had to know. He had to know or else the bomb would blow. He screwed his eyes closed for a moment and tried to remember. It had been years since he'd left C-Sec, even longer since he'd had any training on bomb disposal, and he'd never had to do it in the field. Usually they could run an omni-tool hack that just killed it, this was -

“Garrus? I didn't catch that. Repeat?” _Brown, blue or red? Which one was it?_ “One minute ten seconds, big guy.” She said, her voice turning soft and warm over the comm. _Comforting,_ he realised, _she's facing a bomb and she's comforting you?! Get your shit together Vakarian, you know this._ “Just one wire and we're done. Just one more, that's it.” She finished,

_One more wire? But it couldn't be, that doesn't make any-_

“Doesn't make any sense!” His voice, in contrast to hers, was almost a shout, it echoed from the metal walls of his quarters, “Of course it doesn't. Get back to the main console, hurry!”

“What? Are you -”

“I'm sure. Move, Shepard!” He heard her slam the cover back in place, the sound of her flinging herself back through the floor hatch then the pounding of boots on the metal grating as she sprinted back to the console, “There should be an access panel at the bottom, unscrew that and -” Unscrew seemed to be an unfamiliar term for Shepard, Garrus winced when he heard her fist slam into the access panel and the high pitched screech of the metal being bent and pulled away by brute force,

“I'm in.” She panted,

“Look for the blue, brown and red wires. They must be been fed up through the grating under your feet.”

“You're right, they all feed into a small box. A black wire coming out the top.”

“Strip the plastic covering from the black wire, there should be one red and one white wire inside. Cut the red one.”

“Yeah OK.” He could imagine her fingers fumbling a as she worked, if they were anything like Garrus' then they were trembling more than a little. He resisted the urge to ask how much time they had left; however many seconds remained it wouldn't seem like enough.

“Hurry, Shepard, hurry.” He urged, grabbing hold of the metal barrier that ran around the edge of the Normandy's guns, his head bent down,

“OK, OK, I've got it. The red wire.” He heard her take a breath and hold it, “Can I get a “don't die, Shepard”? It's kinda good luck at this point.”

“Don't die, Shepard.” Garrus realised he was holding his breath too, he closed his eyes and begged himself to be right.

“And the wire is -” He heard the snap of the wire through the comm and Shepard's held breath leave on an exhale, “Cut. We've got it! I think we did it, the countdown stopped, it's -”

There was a crack of static then nothing. Garrus was left listening to empty air.

“Shepard?” He tried around the sudden lump in his throat, the only response was silence. His hands gripped the steel barrier hard enough to leave a mark, his heart hammering in his chest, “Shepard?!”

There was nothing. No answer. No laugh to indicate it was nothing more than a joke in very bad taste.

With a shaking hand he almost had to pry off the barrier, he quickly scrolled through their various comm lines. Still nothing. Just more silence.

 _She can't be gone, not again. I can't do it again._ Something grabbed his chest and squeezed, _I wasn't there again. I wasn't there and -_

“Garrus?” Her voice was very loud in the sudden silence, slightly shaky but very much alive, “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah I can hear you.” He managed to mutter, the strength ran back out of his legs and he sat heavily back on his bunk, his hand coming up to cover his eyes,

“There was some feedback from the solar panel, I lost comms.”

“For a minute there I thought -”

“You worried about me, Vakarian?” She teased,

_Always._

He chuckled,

“Not even for a minute.” Her laugh was as shaky as his, “You OK?”

“I'm good, and so is the colony. I owe you.”

“I think I can come up with a way for you to pay me back.” He said, giving her a chance to get back onto their usual footing,

“I think I'd be getting the better end of that deal, big guy.” She muttered, almost to herself. Garrus was so surprised by the lack of humour in her voice that he didn't have time to respond, “How about breakfast?”

“Yeah, er, sounds great. I'll have your coffee ready by the time you get back.”

“Thanks, Garrus.”

“I know how much you love your coffee.”

“I didn't mean the coffee.”

“I know. I'm holding you to that breakfast.”

“I'll see you soon.”

 

 

 


	4. Alchera aftermath

“Is the Commander still down there?” Jacob asked, his footsteps on the gangway and loud voice breaking the heavy, expectant silence of the cockpit, “How long's it been?”

“Two hours and thirty seven minutes.” Garrus and Joker answered in unison, neither of them particularly surprised to learn the other had also been clock watching.

“Damn.” Jacob whistled,

“Not that we're counting or anything.” Joker muttered with his usual brand of sarcasm, though his follow-up laugh sounded flat to Garrus' ear.

Two hours and thirty seven minutes since EDI had confirmed Shepard's shuttle had landed on the planets surface.

Two hours and thirty seven minutes of Garrus trying very hard not to think about what had happened the last time the Normandy been over Alchera. He'd failed. Miserably.

“Nothing on the comm?” Jacob frowned,

“Not a word.” Joker shook his head, “No music. Nothing.”

“Alchera doesn't have a breathable atmosphere, right?” Jacob asked, completely oblivious to Joker's and Garrus' collective wince. _Way to read the room, Jacob._ Garrus thought, “So she'll be wearing her helmet, just check the cam.” Jacob continued, reaching toward the monitor.

Garrus had switched that monitor off as soon as he'd arrived on the bridge. Joker hadn't commented, just nodded at him from under the bridge of his cap. The pilot's shoulders had lowered a fraction, just a fraction, from where they'd been bunched up around his ears. Garrus wasn't as accustomed to reading Joker as he was Shepard, wasn't as familiar with the various head tilts, raising of the eyebrows and shifting of the shoulders, but it didn't take an expert in human body language to see the pain and guilt Joker was trying to hide behind his usual snarky comments. Hiding behind humour, however, that _was_ something Garrus was accustomed to; he, Joker and Shepard all had that in common.

Garrus wouldn't have blamed Joker in the least if he'd let EDI take the helm while they were still sat in orbit, if he'd escaped to a room without windows until Alchera was nothing more than another blip on the galaxy map. Hell, even some small, shameful part of Garrus had been sorely tempted to hit the button that would close the shutters and block the view. But Joker had remained where he was. He'd sat in that chair and stared at that icy world – _that crypt,_ Garrus thought with a shudder - for two hours and thirty seven minutes. For every single one of those one hundred and fifty seven minutes. Eight thousand five hundred and thirty two seconds.

Garrus respected the hell out of him for it.

“Leave it.” Garrus snapped before Jacob's hand was even halfway to the switch, “If she needs us, she'll open a comm line.”

“But -”

Garrus turned his head slightly to look Jacob in the eye. Garrus might be no expert on human body language, but Jacob was light years behind Shepard in deciphering turian sub-harmonics. The bitter edge to his voice was like broken glass, in the peripheries of his vision he saw Joker sit a little straighter in his chair,

“Let her mourn in peace.” He finished, tapering down the edge a little for Joker's sake. Jacob swallowed, for a moment Garrus thought he was going to argue with him further, after a tense few seconds the man's eyes skipped away from Garrus' and he nodded then stepped up to the other side of the pilot's chair and joined them in looking out over Alchera.

“Damn, this sucks.” Joker muttered to no one in particular.

Garrus agreed wholeheartedly.

He completely understood why Shepard had wanted to visit the planet alone, didn't like it, of course, but understood.

She'd probably have wanted to visit the SR-1's wreckage even if Hackett hadn't asked her to go, but that didn't change the fact that Hackett _had_ asked.

Garrus wasn't Hacketts biggest fan, hadn't been for quite some time. The amount of pressure he put on Shepard coupled with the lack of support pretty much made it impossible.

More than two years later and he hadn't forgotten the military funeral they'd held for her at The Citadel. Hadn't forgotten the white roses that he knew she'd have hated. Such a small thing really, he knew it was a small thing, but it galled him nonetheless. It just showed how little they'd actually known her. The _real_ her, not just what you read in her   
(admittedly impressive) military file.

He hadn't forgotten how quickly the Council and Alliance had covered up the Reaper threat; burying it under stories about the geth. It hadn't taken long before Anderson was the only voice on the Council still talking about Sovereign. He'd wondered, more than a few times over the years, if The Normandy was only over Alchera in the first place because they'd wanted her out of the way while they white-washed everything she'd told them.

Garrus also hadn't forgotten the missions Hackett had sent them on during his time on the SR-1. There had been far too many times the admiral had sent them several systems in the opposite direction to clear mercs from a certain site, or rescue hostages, or stop rogue A.I's. One could fairly assume that Shepard was the only marine under his command. Garrus could almost hear him;

“I know you're trying to stop the invasion of a Reaper; a being who's sole purpose is to wipe out galactic life as we know it, but would you mind crossing a few light years to take care of some pirates?”

It still made him grind his teeth until his jaw ached. It was doubly frustrating because he knew Shepard would do it, whatever the “it” happened to be. Every single time, never a complaint, not so much as a batted eyelid. It was only his respect for her that had allowed him to hold his tongue. Even his strict military upbringing was tested when it came to the subject of Steven Hackett and his never-ending list of things only Shepard could fix.

But this? This was a step too far.

To ask (or more likely order) her to re-visit the planet she'd died on to retrieve the dog-tags of people she'd died to try and save? That was more than a step too far, it was a damn marathon.

“Shepard's shuttle has left the planet's surface.” EDI said, dragging Garrus out of his silent tirade,

“About damn time.” Joker muttered on a long exhale, sounding about as relieved as Garrus felt. Still, Garrus remained where he was. With very few exceptions, Shepard hit the CIC first after a mission: the constant call of her message terminal drew her there like a damn beacon. He wouldn't be able to concentrate on his work until he'd seen she was alright for himself.

 

Shepard was still in her hard-suit when she arrived on the bridge. Skin a little paler - eyes a lot more haunted - than when she'd left. The bio-feedback on his visor scrolled her vitals; heightened heart rate, heightened blood pressure, low body temperature.

A bunch of dog-tags dangled from one clenched fist, jangling together with every step she made toward them. Garrus felt a swooping sensation in his stomach at the sight of them, akin to missing a step when walking downstairs. A low note escaped his chest before he could stop it. Shepard heard, her chin jerking up, and the dog-tags vanished discreetly behind one leg.

“Am I interrupting a meeting?” She asked, looking around at the three of them with one copper eyebrow cocked in a rather impressive attempt at her usual tone. Garrus knew her well enough not to be fooled, even if he didn't have his visor to call her tone a lie.

“No, Commander. I'll – I'll get back to work.” Jacob snapped to attention and saluted before heading back through the CIC to the armoury. The fact that Jacob hadn't received his cursory eye roll in response to his salute said almost as much about her state of mind as his visor did. Garrus wasn't planning on going anywhere, he crossed his arms and leant into one hip,

“Joker, plot a course for The Citadel. I've got a drop off to make for the Alliance.”

“Aye, aye Commander.” The pilots fingers flew over the controls, charting their course. Shepard, Garrus noticed, hadn't met his eyes yet. She was looking anywhere else except directly at him; over his shoulder, at his chest, anywhere but his face.

“I'll be taking requisition requests, get your lists to me an hour before we arrive and I'll see what I can do.”

“Will do, I'll see that Kelly gets the word around.”

“Thanks.” She turned to leave before Joker cleared his throat,

“You OK, Shepard?” He asked quietly,

She pretended not to hear him, they pretended to fall for it,

“I'll be down in the hanger if anyone needs me.”

 

 

Joker had been on the comm moments after Shepard had left the cockpit and advised the crew to give the hanger a wide berth. Live weapons testing was the excuse he'd given them.

Garrus had given her thirty minutes to work through the worst of it before following her down. As he'd expected, she was beating the crap out of a punching bag. He hung back by the elevator doors for a moment, watching her work. It was odd; human, turian, asari, salarian, it didn't seem to matter, workout gear was universal. Tight pants and a sleeveless t-shirt seemed to be the unspoken, universally agreed upon rule. He and Shepard were, apparently, no exception.

Garrus could remember perfectly the first time he'd seen a human; he'd been on a trip to The Citadel to visit his father. He'd only been five or six at the time, Solana had just started to learn how to walk. She hadn't understood the awe he felt when he saw it all, at her age everything was new and exciting. He, on the other hand, had been counting down the days to this trip for months. When they'd arrived he hadn't been prepared for just how huge and intimidating the place really was. And the aliens? There were aliens everywhere; graceful asari, hulking krogan, and the humans. He recalled thinking how weak the humans looked, no natural plating, small feet and even smaller hands. How skinny their wrists were and how fragile looking their skin. Now, watching Shepard beat the stuffing out of their one, and only, punching bag, her muscles working under that thin skin, he wondered how he could ever have been so mistaken.

The only sound in the hanger was the steady beat of her knuckles on the bag, it sounded strangely lonely when not accompanied by music. There had been a running joke on the SR-1: when Shepard worked out, people three systems over knew about it. She liked her music loud, so loud that you could feel the bass rumble the deck beneath your feet. That music, according to Joker, was something called “classic rock.” Popular opinion ruled that it was terrible, and Garrus had been inclined to agree. She'd played it in the mako once, and only once; funnily enough something had happened to the music player and it was offline every time it was Shepard's turn to choose the music. One of the others had bought his first round after that particular incident. Coincidence, he'd told Shepard at the time, trying not to grin at her rolled eyes and playful elbow in the ribs.

As he watched she brought her foot up and span, her entire leg flared violet with biotics, she yelled out loud when her foot connected with the bag and the fabric split, sand spilled out onto a small pile on the hanger floor.

He scoffed a sudden bark of laughter, “You need stronger punching bags.”

“Jesus, Garrus!” She jumped, biotics flashed in her fists for the space of a heartbeat before vanishing as though they'd never been there to start with, “Lurking in shadows now?”

“You OK?” He asked with a slight frown. It wasn't like Shepard to let someone get the drop on her, it was even less like her to let the surprise show. The spike in her heart-rate flashed a warning on his visor,

“Are you and Joker in cahoots? One of you always seem to be asking me that.”

“We have a system.”

“I'd gathered.”

“And you didn't answer the question.”

She waved a flippant hand at him, “I'm fine.”

“Uh huh. You'd be a lot more convincing if you hadn't just destroyed our only punching bag.”

“Put it on your requisition list.” She said dryly, her accompanying grin was forced and certainly for the sole purpose of putting his mind at ease, he wasn't buying it.

“Maybe you'd have more luck with a punching bag that hits back?” He stepped into the hanger properly, pulling his sparring gloves from his pocket and tugging them on. Aside from the obvious fact that they were made for three fingers instead of five, they were the same design as Shepard's, another universally agreed upon rule; slight padding on the knuckles with fabric that ended at the middle knuckle.

Shepard took a step backwards and shook her head, “That's not a good idea. I'm not in a very controlled place right now.”

“You assume you can take me? That's almost cute.”

The chuckle he got in response was tired, but a chuckle nonetheless, he was calling that one a win.

He and Shepard had sparred often on the old ship, usually in the hanger bay once everyone else was asleep. Even back then Shepard hadn't slept much, and from what Garrus had been able to glean, she was sleeping even less now. He wasn't sure if it was due to the Cerberus implants or something else entirely.

It had been strange at first, when he'd discovered that the Alliance soldiers didn't spar, it was expected on a turian ship, encouraged even. It was a great way to work out tension between team-mates before a mission. Maybe if Ashley had taken him up on the offer of sorting out their differences in the ring, there might have been less awkwardness between them, but she never had. Occasionally Wrex would come to watch, usually just throwing friendly jibes or advice from the sidelines. Garrus was also fairly sure that Joker had made a small fortune circling the vid footage throughout the ship, carefully hidden from Shepard of course.

Sparring with a human had been even stranger. They just seemed so damn unprotected with their squishy skin. The first time they'd fought, Garrus had been determined to go easy on her, until she'd almost taken his head clean off his shoulders with a snappy little upper-cut. She'd raised an eyebrow at him, a lopsided smile pulling at her mouth. That smile held too much of a knowing edge to it, her brow too wry to be misunderstood; she'd known he was holding back. He'd learned his lesson quickly: anyone that underestimated Commander Shepard was likely to end up minus one head.

That was fine, he wasn't planning to win this bout either, he didn't need to. All he had to do was wear her down enough to become too tired to maintain the “I'm fine” rhetoric and actually talk to him. To let out whatever was drowning her behind the smirks and smart-ass remarks.

“We both know I'm just as stubborn as you are,” He said when she continued to hesitate, “And you do owe me for wrecking the punching bag. Unless you don't think you're up to the challenge?”

“Reverse psychology?” She leant into one hip and crossed her arms over her chest, “Please, I invented that.”

“Hey, if you're too tired, that's fine.” He spread his arms wide, letting a little of his swagger drop into his steps as he continued to walk toward her, “Maybe Gardener will make you some of that vile smelling chamomile tea, or you could get Joker to read you a story over the comm. His stories aren't as good as mine, but still...”

“Alright big guy, you want your ass beaten this badly, then I guess I can oblige.”

Out of habit Shepard's hand went to her chest, searching for her dog tags. It was an old ritual they'd started the first time they'd sparred; no ranks in the ring. Not that Shepard had ever had to pull rank on him outside the ring either. On a mission was one thing; there, she was a professional – creative, albeit occasionally suicidal, plans aside – and he knew his place as her second. He respected the chain of command without question or comment, because (and he would never tell her this, he'd throw himself out of the airlock first), the woman was _always_ right. On the ship was a different matter, ship Shepard was more relaxed on formalities. She'd pull people up if she had to, but generally speaking she simply didn't need to. Shepard was an easy person to respect, and an even easier one to like. She was one of those rare leaders that didn't need to bark orders for her people to do their jobs; she'd proven herself to them, then knew who, and what, she was. They did their jobs because to disappoint her was unacceptable.

Her hand patted her chest a few more times before she remembered she had no dog tags to remove. Garrus spotted the beginning of a wince before she changed the expression to a frown to try and hide it. He cleared his throat, shifting on his feet a little, and suddenly feeling slightly awkward at the sudden flash of pain he'd seen in that wince. His mandibles fluttered a little and he opened his mouth to say something when Shepard beat him to it,

“Ready?” She asked hurriedly, with a cocked eyebrow as she shifted her weight to the balls of her feet,

“Show me what you've got.”

He expected her to circle him, to test him like she used to. But not this time. She lunged at him so fast she was almost a blur. Before he could react she was under his defences, delivering three quick hits to his chest then she was away again, darting under his arm and back out of reach.

“You're getting slow in your old age, Vakarian.” She grinned, though the smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

He'd forgotten just how quick and nimble she was, her feet seemed to barely touch the floor.

He'd seen Shepard dance when they'd celebrated the defeat of Sovereign, but Shepard dancing and Shepard fighting were two very different things. Getting her feet to move in time to music was a seemingly impossible task, but no dancer could equal her grace when she fought. Every movement flowed into the next so you couldn't tell where one attack ended and the next began; a miniature cyclone of destruction.

Garrus, on the other hand, was the steady silent reflection to her chaos. He was a sniper, he knew how to bide his time, to wait for the perfect head-shot, and hit with brutal, deadly, accuracy. She was the storm, but he was the lightning; striking hard and fast. Utterly unpredictable. She might be able to drown him in a barrage of attacks, but each hit she took in return was devastating.

She feigned to his left before switching her balance to her right foot, trying to come in low under his guard. Garrus traded the peppering of punches to his ribs for one good, clean hit to her shoulder. She flung herself away from him, twisting as she went, but he still managed to graze her with a follow up. No turian could compete with her agility and flexibility, but his reach was a hell of a lot longer.

It only took a few minutes for Garrus to realise exactly why she hadn't wanted to spar with him, to realise just how close to the edge she was. She was still in control, still holding herself in check, but it was hanging by a thread thinner than Garrus had ever seen.

She threw a snappy little jab towards his head, but he managed to side-step out of the way and tried to catch her arm in a lock. She flowed out of it like water, slipping out of his grip and around his back. He turned the opposite way, the way she wasn't expecting, and caught her with a winding punch the ribs.

As time passed her bright green eyes began to narrow, and her jaw started to clench. The jokes and banter fell away until the only sounds were their feet on the deck and the sounds of punches connecting. She wasn't sparring any longer, she was fighting. Garrus was getting a brief insight into what their enemies saw on the battlefield; she was serious and calculating, memorising his attack patterns and countering them almost faster than he could think them up. This was Shepard the hunter, Shepard the warrior.

He pushed her for nearly an hour before she started to tire. Her attacks slowed, her steps not quite as precise as they had been. He wasn't faring any better, his arms had been feeling heavy for a while and he was aching in a few spots where Shepard had caught him harder than she'd intended. He could tell by the way she moved that he'd given as good as he'd gotten, neither of them could keep it up for much longer. He decided to push his luck,

“You did everything you could, Shepard.” He said gently. He hadn't been there when the Normandy went down but he knew it to be true, she couldn't have done any less than everything,

She scowled at him over her clenched fists, “I know. And it still wasn't good enough.” Her voice was no less bitter for it's breathlessness. She quick-stepped in and turned, her back foot lifting as she did and the sole of her foot was suddenly inches from his face, he leant back and let it sail harmlessly past him, moving back in before she could regain her balance, “Twenty people we lost. Good people, _my_ people.”

“It wasn't your fault.”

“Fault? No. Responsibility? Yes.” He lunged at her, she twisted back away from him in a way that he couldn't have imitated if he tried, almost doubling over backwards, her fingers brushing the floor of the hanger, “I have a responsibility to the people under my command. They need to be able to trust my judgement.”

Garrus blinked, “And you don't think they do?”

“Hell, I'm not sure if they _can._ ” Each word was punctuated with movement, she seemed to barely be aware she was talking at all, she was too focused on avoiding Garrus' attacks while making her own,“Half the people I have left in the galaxy that I care about are on this damn ship; you, Joker, Chakwas, Zaeed. And now we've got Kasumi, Jack, Mordin, shit, even Miranda and Jacob are starting to grow on me. And it's a fucking suicide mission, and I don't know -”

She cut herself off abruptly, brows furrowing down into a frown. Irritation, at herself rather than him, flashed across her face,

“What?”

She shook her head, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, “It's nothing. Forget it.”

She threw a hay-maker that had no chance of connecting, Garrus caught her wrist easily and held it, lifting it out of the way so he could see her face,

“You don't know what?” He pressed,

“I said forget it.” She snapped, instead of trying to twist out of his hold, she turned into it, catching him under the ribs with her elbow and yanking her wrist out of his hand. Before she could spring away Garrus dropped, sweeping her legs out from under her. He caught her upper arm, breaking her fall and turning her at the same time so she landed on her back. He followed her down, using his superior weight and strength to firmly, but carefully, pin her to the hanger floor,

“What don't you know?” He panted, blowing loose strands of red hair from her face. He was suddenly very grateful for their little no-ranks-in-the-ring rule, anywhere else and he'd be dangerously close to insubordination for pushing her this hard for an answer, regardless of how relaxed Shepard was on formalities.

Her eyes, just a few inches from his, snapped fire at him. His hands held her wrists high over her head, he could feel her fingers flexing, clenching impotently into fists and releasing again. He'd incapacitated her hands, but he'd forgotten about those ridiculously flexible human legs. She wrapped them around his waist and with a twist she flipped their positions. Before Garrus could blink he was looking up at her. For a few moments - that would drag out into hours in his memory - they just stared at each other, the only sound was their panting breaths, impossibly loud in the otherwise silent hanger. Garrus didn't think he could retaliated even if he tried; he might have had the weight and height advantage, but her gaze was pinning him as surely as his strength had pinned her. Garrus tried to count the emotions that flashed in those green eyes; he saw anger, a sprinkling of fear and something else, an unrecognisable something that he couldn't name, something stronger than the other two emotions combined. Something tempestuous and heated. Then she blinked and it was gone, and she was climbing off him and wordlessly offering a hand to help him up. As soon as he was on his feet she tried to turn away, but Garrus kept hold of her hand,

He tugged on her hand until she faced him, “Shepard -” He pleaded gently.

That odd combination of anger and fear flashed across her face again, until she met his eyes then the fight seemed to fall out of her all at once.

Her forehead fell forward to rest against his chest, her small hands fisted tight on either side of her head. Garrus propped his chin on top of her hair, his arms coming up to wrap around her back. The angry, red scars that had very recently split the skin had almost vanished entirely. Only a few of the deeper ones remained, and they'd been reduced to nothing more than cracks, the red glow barely visible underneath.

“Did I ever tell you that I had a tattoo?” She asked after a few long moments, her voice was quiet, small.

“Really? You?”

“Hmm. Thirty five of us went into N-school, only three of us finished. The day after training we went together and got the N tattooed, the idea was to get the 7 when we finally got the N7 designation. Cheesy as hell, but it was a souvenir, a rite of passage. I didn't have many of those growing up. And a reminder; the mission wasn't over yet, we still had to get that 7 at the end.” She moved one of his hands to her ribs. “It was right here.”

Garrus found himself rubbing his thumb in small circles, feeling the rise and fall of her breath under his hand. It took a few seconds of her choice of words to register,

“Was?” He asked, a sharp trill to his sub-harmonics,

“It's not there any more.” She lifted her head from his chest to look up to him, “It's gone.”

“Gone?” He shook his head, “I don't -”

She stepped out of his arms, reached down into the shadows next to the shuttle and put something in his hands. He turned it over, a blackened, twisted, unrecognisable mess . He brushed some soot away to reveal clear plastic, cracks like spiderwebs covered the entire thing, tiny splinters came away with his fingers. A visor.

Realisation hit him like a punch to the gut, and felt about the same. It hit a lot harder than any punch he'd taken during their fight, and hurt a hell of a lot more. It forced the air from his lungs and twisted his stomach; he was holding her old helmet. He heard a low keening sound, it took a few thick beats of his heart for Garrus to realise it was coming from him,

“I remember -” Her voice was barely over a whisper, and when Garrus glanced up she wasn't looking at him, she was looking at the charred mess in his hands. He wasn't entirely sure if she was talking more to herself than to him, he also wasn't entirely sure if it mattered either way, “I remember _it_ , every single second.”

A chill worked it's way down his spine, settling in the small of his back. He hadn't known – hadn't even thought to _ask_ – if she remembered. Maybe he hadn't wanted to know. Maybe he'd been a little too eager to forget. To only think about the two states - she had been gone, now she was back - and not think about the passage, the transition, from one to the other, the actual dying part of being dead. Gone was the word he'd used in his head since her return, not dead, _never_ dead. Dead had too much finality to it. Maybe he'd been a little too focused on being angry; at Hackett, the Council, Sidonis, every merc in the terminus system. Hell, at himself.

“Shepard...”

She shook her head and looked up from her old helmet to meet his eyes, he imagined he could see Alchera reflected in the bright green before they flitted quickly away. Her hands moving to rub self-consciously at her arms, her lips twisting into a smile that was half a sneer. Her muscles in the line of her shoulders and neck were bunched as though she were ready to flee at any moment. In contrast, Garrus didn't think he could move if his life had depended on it. His feet were as pinned to the deck by her words as his body had been by her eyes just a few minutes ago.

“People aren't supposed to know what it's like to die, Garrus.” Her brows were pulled down as she addressed the wall, refusing to look at him, “People don't survive getting spaced. They don't come back from the dead. What if – what if _I_ didn't, what if I'm not –“ She shook her head again, helplessness – and, _spirits_ , it hurt to even _think_ the words Shepard and helpless in the same sentence – flattened her features, “If I was a clone or a V.I, would I even know?”

Garrus sucked in a breath, his mandibles flared briefly before pulling in tight to his cheeks. _This_ was what was hiding behind the jokes? The easy quips about the shit-ton of credits she'd cost Cerberus? About scars that were hideous even by krogan standards? _Her_ words, of course, her jokes, not his. With just the right level of self-deprecating humour to hide... _this?_ To hide _would I even know?_

His twisted stomach turned into a solid, heavy mass.

In that moment any anger he'd felt toward Hackett was dwarfed by his sudden, visceral, hatred for the The Illusive Man. If he'd been stood in front of them, Garrus was certain he'd tear him limb from limb before he had time to utter a single syllable of complaint.

To let her think, even for a second that she was -

His hands itched to do something, _anything_.

They were hunters. Warriors. What does a warrior do when they fear the enemy is themselves?

Garrus glanced back down at the broken helmet that still sat harmlessly in his hands, the physical embodiment of _would I even know?_ He launched it as hard as he could at the far corner of the hanger, the echo of metal on metal rang in the sudden silence.

“You're you.” He said firmly, with all the surety he could muster. Garrus had questioned everything that had happened in the last two and a bit years, hell, he'd questioned most things before then too. But this? _This_ he didn't need to question. About this one thing he was sure. “You're Shepard.”

“I don't know what I am.”

“What's Tali's favourite drink?” He asked suddenly. She blinked, her surprise shifting her gaze back to him again, but she answered without hesitation, seemingly without having to think about it,

“Triple filtered turian brandy.”

“Benezia's nickname for Liara?”

“Little Wing.”

“What did Ashley call the hanar preacher we met on the Citadel?”

“A big, stupid, jellyfish.” That last answer was accompanied by an, albeit tiny and sad, twitch of her lips,

“If Cerberus _had –_ if they'd done what you think they've done, you wouldn't know us, not like you do. None of that is in a dossier, they can't find it in a file somewhere and, I don't know, programme it into you. You know because you're you.”

“Then why don't I -” She shrugged, her fingers twisted around themselves until Garrus was tempted to take her hands just to keep them still, “I don't feel like me.”

“Shepard, you spent two years dead, half your body has either been grown, grafted or cybernetically enhanced. You're on a ship built by a known enemy going against odds that no broker in the galaxy would give you even half-way decent odds on. Of course you have doubts. And that's OK. I'd be more concerned if you _didn't_ have doubts, that makes you human.”

“But -”

“There are no buts here, Shepard.” Her eyes tried to skip away from his again so he caught her face between his palms, nudging gently until she looked at him again. His sparring gloves only came to the middle knuckle, leaving most of his fingers and thumbs exposed. He'd never touched her with bare skin before, he realised. He'd always expected human skin to feel squishy, spongy even, but it wasn't. Her skin was soft; silky and warm under the leathery pads of his fingers. He could feel the sharp, delicate line of her jaw laying just beneath. Just for a second, Garrus regretted the fact that he was wearing gloves at all, “You're you. You're real. A little crazy maybe, but real. Hell, so maybe _you_ wouldn't know if you were a –“ He swallowed, his throat didn't want to form the words, he forced it to, “A clone or a V.I, but _I'd_ know.”

“How?”

“Because I know you, they can't recreate or fake that, it just is. When you turned up on Omega – you remember the concussive round I hit you with? It wasn't to stop the mercs from getting suspicious or to hurry you up, it was because I thought you were a hallucination. I questioned everything, right down to my own sanity, but _never_ that you were you. I knew. It was impossible, but that didn't matter. I just knew.”

She didn't say a word, didn't object or try to argue. She just watched him, green eyes that never missed anything searched his. He held eye contact, let her look. Allowed her check for doubt, for lies - well meaning, but lies nonetheless – for platitudes (spirits, how they both hated platitudes) where he knew none existed.

She blinked and a tear escaped her lower lases, he brushed it away carefully with a thumb and, with an odd twinge of regret that he refused to acknowledge, released the gentle hold he had on her face and took a small step back to give her a little space.

“I need to ask you to do something.” She cleared her throat and pushed some loose hair from her face. When she looked back up at him he could see some of the unwavering confidence he was so used to seeing peak through, “TIM's going to send us through the Omega 4 relay, he hasn't said it yet, but that's what I would do if I was him. If I was a betting woman, and I am, then I'd bet he's pouring all his resources into finding us a way through.”

“Agreed.” Garrus nodded, she was right, it's what he would do too, but he didn't see where she was going with this,

“You remember what I said when you first arrived after Omega? That I think there's something more in this for TIM than just helping the colonists? If I'm right, then it's something on the other side of that relay, and it's something very dangerous.” Garrus nodded again, “If we get through and I'm....off. If I do something that's Cerberus, that's not me, then I need you take take me down.”

“What?!” Garrus blurted. _How have we gone from “you're you” to, “Garrus you might need to shoot me!”_ He wondered, “Damn, sorry, what?!”

“OK, let's say you're right, let's say that I am me, that Cerberus spent two years and millions of credits to bring me back. Are you telling me there's not the slightest chance they installed a fail-safe with the rest of their upgrades?”

Garrus felt his mandible flutter as he tried to think of an argument against what she was saying, some reasonable explanation as to why they wouldn't,

_Come on, Vakarian,_ he ordered himself, _something, anything._ But his mind came up blank.

“Miranda said -”

“Miranda said she wanted to put in a control chip but TIM wouldn't allow it, apparently he wanted to bring me back exactly as I was. But I can't get the thought out of my head. If we go through the Omega 4 relay and TIM flips a switch, I'd be their puppet. I wouldn't be able to stop myself, but you would.”

“I can't -” He started to back away, but Shepard caught his hands before he could take more than half a step backwards,

“You can. You know me better than anyone, you know how I work, the lines that I don't cross. I'm a dangerous person, Garrus. A valuable asset. One of the best soldiers the Alliance has ever produced, even before the Cerberus enhancements. In the wrong hands I could do a lot of damage. If TIM _has_ put a control chip in my head and tries to make me do something I wouldn't do, then you'll know.”

Garrus swallowed hard, he could feel his heart beating thickly in his throat, white noise filled his ears.

_That unwavering confidence you saw? That wasn't in her, it was in you. She might not totally believe in herself, but she believes in you._

_This wasn't what I meant! I –_ He argued with himself.

_Time to put your money where your mouth is, Vakarian._ That time it was Shepard's voice in his head.

His heart skipped a beat, just the thought of it was enough to hollow his chest into something painful.

“This is insane! You realise you're quite literally staking your life on how well I know you?” Incredulity choked his sub-harmonics, the words seemed to catch in his throat,

“Yeah,” Her smile was crooked, sad but warm at the same time, “That's kinda the point. You know me well enough to know that I'd rather be dead than be his puppet.” She gave his hand a squeeze, “If you believe that I'm me – really believe it – then you know this is right.”

“Crap.” He muttered. _Dammit,_ he thought. _She's right._ He knew he'd be asking her the same damn thing if their roles were reversed. He ground his teeth together, feeling a muscle jump in his jaw, “I do. I know you're you. So alright. If it comes to it - it won't - but if it does, I've got your back. Just do me a favour and be wrong on this one, OK?”

“I'll do my best.” Her laugh was a little wet sounding, but she looked lighter than she had since she'd turned up on Omega, as though a colossal weight had been lifted from her shoulders. _I did that,_ he thought with a little pang of pride, “Thank you, for this. For making me talk about it.”

“Kinda regretting it a little now, if I'm honest.” Garrus huffed, fully aware he'd only been able to agree to her plea because he was sure he'd never have to follow through. If he'd had any doubts he'd never be able to make that kind of promise.

“Seriously, I don't know how you knew I needed this, but thank you.”

“Because I know you, remember?”

She rolled her eyes but when she smiled up at him there was something unguarded about it, almost sweet, “You're smarter than you look.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He faked a long suffering sigh, “I know how this goes: good job, or else I'd never find my way out of the battery in the mornings, right?”

“I dunno, you look pretty good too.” She playfully bumped her hip into his and Garrus felt something swoop in his stomach, before he could examine what, exactly, it was, Shepard threw an arm around his waist and steered them towards the elevator, “Requisition lists should be starting to come in. Want to see how much contraband we can sneak past EDI and Miranda?”

“Sure, Shepard.” He said, oddly aware of her hand on his waist, “You still owe me a punching bag.”

 

 


	5. Shore leave. Part one.

Garrus flicked a thumb over his omni-tool and increased the volume on the music function of his visor. It was always too quiet aboard The Normandy when she was docked. The absence of the usual steady hum under his feet was strangely unsettling; blasting Expel 10 at full volume may not be what most people considered a concentration aid, but it certainly worked for him. The pounding of the heavy bass echoed in his chest as he subconsciously hummed along with the music.

He was currently flat on his back under the main cannon, coated in grease and grime to his elbows as he worked on the hardware. It made a nice change of pace from his usual calibrations. The work was fiddly, precise and, for once, it was probably a good thing the ground under him was still. He soldered another wire into place, squinting behind his goggles at the stench of melting metal and plastic. Satisfied that the wire wasn't going anywhere, even with Joker's flare for evasive manoeuvrers, Garrus pulled himself out from under the guns and rubbed a smudge of grease off his nose with a rag. With the hardware (hopefully) back in line, he returned to his console and flicked it back on, scanning the scrolling text. There was certainly an improvement but not the margin he'd been expecting. Garrus tossed the rag unceremoniously over one shoulder and cracked his knuckles, his hands hovered over the keys, he was just about to make some corrections when his music cut out and Joker's voice came over the comm,

“Hey, Garrus? You busy?”

“Can it wait for a bit? I'm in the middle of some -”

“I swear Garrus, if you say calibrations I will come down there, pull that stick out of your ass and beat you with it.”

Even though Joker couldn't see him, Garrus still found himself leaning back onto one hip and crossing his arms over his chest, “You'll do what now?”

“Or I'll, you know, pay Zaeed to do it. Whatever.”

Garrus chuckled and returned his hands to the keys, “So, what can I do for you Joker?”

“It's Shepard.”

That got Garrus' attention, his hands paused, and he glanced back up from the monitor, “What about Shepard?”

“I just got a call from Afterlife, apparently the Commander's there and had, erm, a few drinks.”

 _Oh, is that all?_ Garrus rolled his eyes, losing concentration to the scrolling text on his console once again, “Shepard's on shore leave; if she wants a drink then she wants a drink. Spirits know she deserves it, it might even do her some good. She's under a lot of pressure, she probably just needs to cut loose a bit, blow off some steam.”

“That's what I thought, but -” Garrus understood that Joker was a little protective of Shepard, hell, they all were. But Garrus had noticed he'd stepped up the whole 'big brother' thing, as Shepard called it, after the first Normandy had gone down. Garrus couldn't say he was surprised, it was Joker that had seen Shepard get spaced after all,

“Joker, Shepard's a big girl, she can look after herself.” he said, as kindly as he could.

“Well gee Garrus, thanks! I hadn't noticed that, what, with all the years I've been serving with her.”

“Then what's the problem?” Garrus asked, typing a few lines of commands into the console,

“Grizz says -”

“Who?”

“Grizz? You know, Aria's turian bodyguard?”

“Why's Aria's bodyguard calling you?”

Garrus could almost hear Joker rolling his eyes over the comm, “What do you think I've been saying? Grizz called to say Shepard is drinking, like, a lot. I don't know how much she'd need to drink to have caught attention in Afterlife... but from what I've heard about the place? I'm willing to bet it's a lot.”

Before Joker had finished speaking Garrus had closed down his console and started wiping the grease off his hands, “Why does Grizz, or Aria for that matter, care what happens to Shepard?”

“How should I know? Maybe Aria likes her?” Garrus scoffed, Aria didn't 'like' anyone, found them interesting or useful maybe, that was the extent of the asari's affections, “Or maybe Grizz has a thing for her? I dunno.”

For a fraction of a second Garrus' hands stilled on their way to grabbing his civvies, “What — what makes you say that?”

The idea of Grizz having 'a thing' for Shepard did something to Garrus' gut that he wasn't entirely happy about. Almost a wave, an odd combination of unjustified anger and resentment, washed over him.

 _What the hell was that?_ He shook his head,

_She's your commander, you're just looking out for her well-being, Vakarian. That's it._

The word jealousy tried to bubble up in his mind, he pushed it forcefully away,

_Why would I be jealous?_

_I'm not,_ he told himself firmly, _absolutely, positively not jealous._

“Hey, I hear a lot of guys are into crazy.” Joker said, totally unaware of the effect his last statement had had on Garrus, “So are you going to go get our fearless leader or not?”

“If I've got such a stick up my ass, maybe you should go ask someone else.” Garrus muttered, still stinging from the remark about Grizz, and thoroughly pissed off with himself that it bothered him at all,

“Oh? So like Zaeed? Grunt? Jack?? Yeah, they always have such a stabilising influence on any situation. Besides, you're already on your way, aren't you?”

Garrus was already palming open the door in fact, but he saw no reason to share this with Joker, “Any idea why she's in the state she's in?” he asked instead,

“Hell Garrus, you were there. Horizon sounded rough from where I was sitting, can't imagine it was any easier on the ground.” Garrus didn't answer, Horizon had been more than rough, no way around that. They'd lost nearly half a colony. Then Alenko... Garrus scowled, causing one or two of the crewmen still lingering in the mess to back away a little. Yeah, more than rough, there was a very good reason Shepard had granted a twenty-four-hour shore leave, “I'm kinda surprised she didn't invite you along to the bar with her actually.” Garrus made a non-committal grunt in reply, hoping that would be sufficient, but apparently Joker knew him better than he thought, “Ah. She did, didn't she?”

“She came by the main battery, but I was -”

“Busy. Shit man, did you even _talk_ to her when you got back from Horizon?”

“Of course.” Garrus said, pressing the button for the elevator, “We spoke on the shuttle, she was fine, we slung some shit at Alenko, her turian swearing is improving, she laughed, she was fine.”

“Wait, wait, wait. You spoke on the shuttle? The _bugged,_ Cerberus shuttle? With Miranda sitting right next to you?” Garrus could hear Joker clapping, with excruciating slowness, over the comm.

He frowned, _had_ Shepard wanted to talk? Alright, she had come by the main battery before leaving the ship, but he really had been busy. She had the worst timing, she only ever seemed to come by when he was up to his brow-plates in complicated algorithms and equations. So she'd left his quarters.... and gone right out and hit the ryncol.

_Shit._

“I fucked up, didn't I?” Garrus groaned, rubbing the area between his eyes,

“Definitely. Look, just go find her before she gets herself into trouble.”

“We _are_ talking about the same Shepard, right?” Garrus asked with a smirk,

“ _More_ trouble then.”

 

Garrus had been careful to grab a tunic with a large, loose cowl he could tug up into a hood, hopefully it would disguise his features enough so he could get in and out of Afterlife without being recognised. EDI had assured him that all the mercs thought he was dead, but still, he wasn't taking any chances. Dressed in civvies instead of his usual armour, then the hood and the bandages obscuring half his face, he was fairly confident he'd go unnoticed.

As he stepped through the airlock the pungent smell that seemed unique to Omega hit him; half rotten garbage and filth. He'd once told Shepard it was the smell of despair, he still considered that accurate. It was part of Omega in the same way the skyline was, and just as recognisable. Even with all the time he'd spent here, nearly two years, he'd never gotten used to it. Butler, who'd been born and raised on Omega, hadn't smelled it at all. Of course humans had a terrible sense of smell, his time on Omega was the only time he'd envied that. It wouldn't be too bad once he got inside Afterlife, the club seemed to be the only place with half-way decent air filters. Maybe Aria found it as foul as he did.

The queue outside the club was as long as ever, the people in line were mostly strangers to the station. No local ever stood in that queue, it was pointless and never moved, not without greasing a few palms. For a place without laws they certainly had a thing for unwritten rules. Garrus skirted the queue and slipped the batarian bouncer his usual 'tip'. The batarian barely even glanced at him, just nodded in the direction of the door. Garrus kept his head down and face averted as he made his way through the entrance, he let his other senses take over instead, listening keenly for voices he knew or the sounds of someone recognising him.

Thankfully he reached the inner doors without incident and found Grizz waiting for him just inside,

“Took you long enough.” the bodyguard muttered, gesturing to a dark spot at the end of the bar with his rifle, “She's been there for some time, it was fine when she was dancing on the bar, but -”

Garrus jerked his head back to Grizz, “Excuse me? Shepard? My — _our_ Shepard was dancing on the bar? Shepard is a terrible dancer.”

“Dunno about that, looked pretty good to me.” Grizz smirked. Garrus managed to stop the growl that tried to rise in his chest, but it was an effort.

_Shit, why is this bothering me so much?_

“But now she's just sitting at the end of the bar drinking,” Grizz continued, “She's downed more ryncol than I've seen most krogan drink. Aria isn't going to complain about the credits she's putting her way, but she won't be happy if Commander Shepard poisons herself while I stood and watched.”

“I'll take care of it.”

“See that you do.” Grizz said, “Aria's up in the exclusive area tonight, I need to get up there.”

Garrus wasn't really listening, Grizz wasn't out the door before he was walking across the dance floor. The bar was busy, asari dancers were weaving their way through the crowds, keeping the customers happy. A few were providing slightly more private entertainment in the form of lap dances in the booths.

Shepard was sat at the end of the bar, away from the noise and ruckus, with what seemed to be an unconscious human slumped on the floor next to her. Her usual uniform had been traded in for the black dress Kasumi had provided for her mission to Donovan Hock's party.

“Changed your mind about that drink?” she asked before he could even open his mouth.

Garrus' head jerked back in surprise, from what he'd been told about the amount of ryncol Shepard had put away, he hadn't been expecting her to be able to form a cohesive sentence, but she wasn't even slurring,

“You're sober, aren't you?” he asked,

“Yep.” Shepard said, downing half a tumbler of ryncol and waving to the bartender for another and a turian whiskey for him, “The first few worked but then I guess the Cerberus implants kicked in, I can't drink fast enough to keep up. I bet they did it on purpose. I knew TIM was evil, but this is diabolical. Probably found some way to make sure I still get a hangover too. Bastard.”

“And him?” Garrus asked, nodding his head in the direction of a passed out man at his feet,

“Him? Oh, he's nobody, just some guy that needed a lesson on the meaning of the word “no”. He was a slow learner.” Garrus nudged the unconscious human out of the way with his foot and slid into the vacant stool next to her.

Now that he was here, and she clearly wasn't the plastered mess he'd been expecting, he was at a slight loss as to what to say. Shepard liked a few drinks, always had done, but hitting the ryncol this hard was unusual, especially alone. _Something_ was bothering her enough to justify the odd behaviour and, as Joker had rightfully pointed out, Horizon hadn't been a walk in the park,

“Alenko's an ass.” Garrus started with a dismissive wave of his hand, “You can't let him -”

She'd just taken another sip of her drink and almost spat it across the bar when she laughed, “Of course he's an ass.” she wiped a little of the ryncol off her chin with the heel of her hand and shook her head with a fond smile, _“_ Kaiden's always been an ass. _That's_ why you're here? You think I'm upset about Kaiden?”

“Well, yeah, actually. He is, or was, one of us. I thought...” Garrus' voice trailed off as Shepard continued to smile at him,

“Kaiden is Kaiden. He's so Alliance he may very well bleed blue, I'm not mad at him for not jumping on the Cerberus fun train. It's who he is. He's doing what he thinks is right. He's wrong of course, and it would have been nice if he'd turned us down _without_ calling me a traitor. But the guy stands by his principles, you've got to respect him for that.”

“So if it's not Alenko, why are you here?”

“I don't think you want to know.” she sing-songed the words, making them playful, but the hunch of her shoulders and the tension in her neck told a very different story,

“Try me.”

“You are going to think I've lost my mind.”

“You're way past that, Shepard. I thought you were crazy the moment we met.”

“Is that so?”

“Yep, so if you're worried about me questioning your sanity then you're around two and a half years too late.”

“You in the habit of following crazy women around, Vakarian?” she asked, her head tilted slightly to one side, one copper eyebrow cocked and a teasing smile playing around her mouth. Garrus found himself leaning in closer to answer, his arm sliding across the back of her stool,

“Depends on the woman, Shepard.” a slight rumble had somehow worked its way into his voice.

Her eyes crinkled in a smile; they really were an incredible shade of green. This close Garrus could see a ring of bright amber around the pupils, against the bright green it looked like sunbursts of molten gold.

 _I hear a lot of guys are into crazy,_ Jokers voice echoed in his head and Garrus pulled himself abruptly back, slightly surprised at how close his face was to hers.

Shepard, completely oblivious to the fact that Garrus had missed the last few words she'd said, was still talking. He mentally shook himself,

“— you're a braver man than me, but don't say I didn't warn you.” she took a deep breath, “It's Harbinger.”

Of all the answers she could have given him — and there were quite a few insane things she could have been sat here mulling over — he had at least been expecting to know what she was talking about. He was pretty sure it wasn't due to his unexpected lapse in concentration, that he was in no way going to acknowledge.

_They really are like sunbursts though._

_They're just eyes, for Spirits sake! They're the exact same they were on the SR-1 ._

_Yeah, but -_

Nope. Not acknowledging it at all.

He shook himself again, “Who?”

“Harbinger. The super-Collector asshole with the biotic barriers?”

Ah, _him._ Yes, Garrus remembered him alright. He shuddered a little at the memory. “It's not just another type of Collector?” he asked,

“It's not actually a Collector at all.”

“It's not?” It had looked like a Collector to him, it had powers the others didn't, it had biotic attacks for one. None of the others had been able to do that,

“Nope.” Shepard shook her head, “It's a Reaper.”

“A Reaper?” he blurted before clapping a hand over his mouth, very glad that no one was near enough to overhear them, “A Reaper?” he hissed this time, “We're talking about the same Reapers, right? Giant, space-station-sized, sentient killing machines?”

“That's the one. I don't know how it's doing it, but it's controlling the Collectors, possessing their bodies. We weren't just killing a different type of Collector, whenever we killed its host it would just relinquish control and move onto another one. But it's the same Reaper.”

Garrus shook his head; she'd been right. This really was insane. They knew about indoctrination, of course, but they'd seen nothing like an ability to take direct control of another individual, “How do you know all this?”

“It spoke to me.”

“It what?!” Garrus actually sputtered, he'd been behind her every step of the way on Horizon and he hadn't heard a thing,

“I thought you guys could hear it too, then neither of you reacted, so -” she laughed a humourless chuckle, “See, this is the part where you think I'm insane and get me fitted for a straight jacket. It -” she hesitated, biting her lip and looking into her glass,

“What?” he pressed, she looked up and met his eyes,

“It called me by name. It knows me.”

“It knows you?! Okay, that's — that's just -”

“I know, right? Drink your shitty whiskey, Garrus.”

Garrus emptied his glass in one long swallow, “Alright, so it's a — you know what, that didn't do it.” he waved to the bartender for another, “Starting to understand the abundance of ryncol. So it's a talking Reaper Collector thing that holds a grudge?”

“And an asshole, don't forget that part.”

“What did it say?”

“I am Harbinger.” she said, dropping her voice into a rough growl, eerily reminiscent of how Sovereign sounded when they spoken to it on Virmire, “I know this hurts you. You will know pain, Shepard. You cannot stop us. We do not die. If I must tear you apart, Shepard, I will. Blah blah blah.”

“Please don't do the voice.” Garrus shuddered, “That's just disturbing.”

“I've been practising that.” she said, looking mildly affronted,

“I can tell.” he dead-panned, repressing a second shudder,

The bartender put another glass of whiskey on the bar for him, “Hey?” Shepard called before he could serve anyone else, “I don't suppose you've got a bottle of tequila back there?”

“This is Omega, we have everything back here.” he said before disappearing along the bar in search of the drinks,

“I know hearing voices when you guys can't is bad.” she said, turning back to Garrus, “You don't have to believe me, but -”

“Of course I believe you.” he interrupted, chin coming up. He hadn't thought to even question it, “If you say you can understand it, then you can understand it. Maybe it has something to do with the cypher.”

“Huh, I hadn't thought of that. So you don't think I'm crazy?”

“Hell yeah, I definitely think you're crazy, but no more than I did when I walked in.” he nudged her with his shoulder,

“Be still my heart.” she laughed, and not the humourless one from earlier, “Thanks.”

“No problem. But you know it's just a tactic to get to you, right? It's trying to psych you out.”

“Yeah, of course. And it's really pissing me off that it's working.”

“I think a Reaper controlled Collector calling you by name would freak anyone out. So what do we do now?”

“We drink.”

“ _That's_ your grand solution?” Garrus laughed,

“It's my for-now solution.” she smiled, “I'll fill the rest of the team in on it in the morning, and we can go from there. Harbinger and the Collectors aren't going anywhere, I think we can afford one night of not thinking about it.” The bartender placed a bottle of clear spirit, a salt shaker and a bowl of sliced lemons on the bar, “Huh, protein paste is literally all they can get for dextro's to eat here, but dextro-levo lemons in the bar? Of course.”

“Is this some weird human thing?” he asked, slightly perplexed as he watched Shepard arrange the items in front of them,

“It's a sacred rite of my people.”

“And it involves alcohol?”

“A lot of them do, now that you mention it.”

“How did your people ever master space flight?”

“Do not mock our ways, Vakarian.”

“Poor, primitive humans.”

She leant over and poured a small mound of salt onto each of their hands, “We'll see how your turian superiority handles a few of these.”

“That's just unfair, with your implants you can't even get drunk.”

“Now who's primitive?”

“Alright, I kinda asked for that.” he conceded, taking the offered shot of clear liquid from her.

She span her stool to face him and Garrus found himself suddenly aware of her bare knee pressed against his, “Okay, so you lick the salt, knock back the shot, then suck on a lemon. Ready?”

“Please, Shepard. If I can handle ryncol, then I can handle this.”

“Alright, big guy, show me what you've got.” The evil gleam in her eyes was enough to suddenly make him regret his decision, but it was too late. An instant later the salt was gone, they slammed their glasses down on the bar at almost the exact same time, and Garrus had a lemon wedge between his teeth.

“Spirits, Shepard.” Garrus coughed while she laughed at him around her own lemon, “That is disgusting.”

“I know.” she laughed, sucking some lemon juice from her thumb, “Fun though.”

“Fun?! You call that fun?”

She looked up at him through her lashes, lifting an eyebrow suggestively, “Well, it's a lot _more_ fun if you lick the salt off someone else.” she purred. Garrus actually felt his mandibles slacken away from his face. When he continued to stare at her, Shepard's brow furrowed, and she tilted her head to one side, “You okay there, Vakarian?”

_Yeah, just thinking about licking salt out of the hollow of your throat._

He coughed,

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

“Yeah, yeah of course. Round two?”

 

By round four the tequila didn't taste quite so bad. They had very carefully not discussed anything related to Harbinger, the Collectors or Horizon. Garrus was feeling better than he had in a long time, neither of them had taken a night off since this mission had started, maybe he'd needed the break as much as she had.

He should have known it wouldn't last. Shepard was in the process of pouring their next drink when movement caught his eye. A large group of men were grouped together near the doors, all armoured and with assault rifles strapped in various places. They glanced around the room before one of them pointed in his and Shepard's direction, and they moved en-mass toward them.

Shepard felt him shift from relaxed to on guard before he realised he'd done it, “What?” she murmured,

“We've got incoming.” he muttered back, moving his face closer to hers so the group wouldn't notice and watched them approach over her shoulder,

“Where?”

“Your four o'clock. Six of them, no make that eight. All human.”

“Wonderful. Anyone we know?”

“Friends of his, maybe?” Garrus glanced at the human at his feet. They'd checked on him earlier, he was still out for the count but breathing normally so they'd left him where he was. “You just had to get friendly with the locals.”

“In my defence, he got friendly with me first.”

“I doubt a reasonable explanation is what they're looking for. I don't suppose you have a gun hidden under there?”

“Suddenly interested in what I have under my dress, Vakarian?” He should have a come-back for this, something, _anything_ , but his mind went completely and utterly blank. She rolled her eyes at him, “We're on Omega, of course I've got a gun. There's a pistol strapped to my thigh. But let me see if I can convince them to walk away first.”

One of the men approached, the others hung back, their hands hovered near their weapons, making the threat abundantly clear. Shepard didn't move as the man dropped onto his haunches to check his friend, but Garrus felt, more than saw, her bristle, her bare legs instinctively twitching away from the stranger and toward him. Apparently happy that his friend was unconscious rather than dead, but furious nonetheless, the human stood to address them,

“What the fuck is going on here?”

“Your friend had a little too much to drink,” she said, talking to him over her shoulder, “I suggest you take him home and let him sleep it off.”

“You have no idea who you're messing with, bitch.” the man growled. His hand twitched toward his gun, but he didn't draw it. Garrus saw Shepard's eye follow the movement. She waited for the man to look at her before answering,

“Neither do you. Trust me, I'm doing you a favour. Walk away.”

The man's hand dropped heavily onto Shepard's shoulder, her biotics flared for an instant, her entire body glowed violet and the man's hand jerked away. He took half a step back and Shepard span her stool to face him,

“I really wouldn't do that if I were you.” Garrus said,

“You don't want to get into this, believe me. It _will_ go badly for you.” she warned, “Leave. Now.”

The man threw a punch intended for Shepard's chin, she dodged it easily and was on her feet in one fluid motion. Before he could pull the arm back she had his wrist in her hand and twisted into an arm lock. The men yelped in surprise, his shoulder stretched into an unnatural angle. The others were hovering nearby, they lurched forward to intervene but Garrus shot them a look and they hesitated,

“Last chance. You sure you want to do this?” Shepard asked, bending down to whisper into the man's ear,

“No, no. We'll leave. Just let go.”

Shepard let go of his arm and took a step back. The man turned to leave before spinning around and throwing a wild hook towards her head, she ducked under it and tried to bring her leg up to kick him, but it had only reached part way when the hem of her dress stopped her,

“Crap.” she muttered, this time the man's punch connected, catching her in the ribs. Garrus was on his feet and towering over the man within a heartbeat, catching his arm before he could take a second shot. This close Garrus could see a tattoo on the man's neck.

_Blue suns? Shit._

“What the fuck do you think -” the man turned to look at Garrus, his eyes widening in surprise, “Hey!” his voice raised into a shout, “I know you! You're-” before he could finish the sentence, Garrus twisted the merc's arm behind his back and slammed him forehead first into the bar. The Blue suns merc fell unconscious to the floor on top of his friend, the seven others he'd brought with him shouted their outrage before, as one, reaching for their guns.

“Over the bar!” Shepard barked, pushing him in the back for good measure, “Go!”

Garrus landed hard on the other side, he could hear the people in the club shouting over the sound of the music and the stampede of feet towards the doors. An instant later Shepard landed right next to him, and only just in time; a moment later and the air was rent with the explosions of gunfire. Shepard grabbed a corkscrew and jammed it into the fabric of her dress just blow the hip, then dragged it down to the hem, freeing her legs up to move. Before he could question what she was doing she flipped one leg over his so she was straddling him just above the knees, (Garrus had to fist his hands against the sudden, powerful urge to wrap his hands around her hips) and a violet shield wavered around her fingers, growing to shelter them both from glass and the ricochet of bullets,

“Wow, Shepard. I didn't know you could do that.”

“Neither did I. Not sure how long it's going to last.” she muttered through grit teeth. She winced as a glass shelf behind the bar exploded, sending glass and bottles to rain down onto the barrier, “Shit, ow! Were you planning on helping yourself to that pistol any time soon?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.”

He pushed the ruined fabric of her dress to one side to find a holster, carnifex and a handful of thermal clips attached to one creamy skinned thigh. Garrus sucked in a breath, his mandibles flattening against his cheeks. Was this some new tactic? A distraction technique?

_Dammit, that's -_

_Don't say it, Vakarian! Don't you dare say it!_

_Sexy. That is sexy as hell._

_She's your commanding officer! And your best friend! Your_ _**human** _ _commanding officer and best friend! What are you -_

“Trying to stop bullets with my mind here, Vakarian.” Shepard interrupted his thoughts, “Not to rush you, or anything.”

“Nag, nag, nag.” he muttered, making her snicker as he unclipped the pistol (while trying to ignore the part of his mind that was cursing at him for wearing gloves) and a spare clip.

The moment there was a break in fire, Shepard dropped her barrier and rolled off his legs. Garrus popped to his feet, sending the mercs scrambling for cover as he unloaded the pistol with brutal efficiency. He was sure he'd taken one out of the fight and winged two others before he dropped back behind the bar to reload.

Shepard took his place, not giving the mercs chance to breathe as she threw biotic attack after biotic attack at them,

“You sure you're okay, Garrus?” she asked, as casual as you like while launching a shock-wave through the club,

“You mean _aside_ from the mercs trying to kill us?” he answered dryly,

“You just seem a little distracted, is all.” she shrugged,

Unwittingly Garrus' gaze was drawn to the thigh high tear in Shepard's dress,

_I guess distracted is one word for it._

_How is it possible that someone so small could have legs that long?_

_Trust Shepard to have legs that spat in the face of physics._

Garrus slammed his second, and final, thermal clip into the pistol and swung back to his feet. He finished off one of the ones he'd injured earlier but the others had finally grasped the concept of cover, making things a little trickier.

When Garrus dropped back behind the bar with his now empty gun, he saw that Shepard was pushing a bar towel into their unfinished bottle of tequila,

“Molotov cocktail.” she said in response to his raised brow, “Dump your clip and be ready to run.”

“Aria is going to have our heads.”

“She can bill me later. If we're not dead.”

“Popping the sink in 3,2,1.”

The alcohol soaked bar towel immediately burst into flame on contact with the spent cartridge,

“Go!” Shepard shouted, launching the bottle over the bar and straight at the knot of mercs on the other side.

It had barely left her hand when Garrus was on his feet and sprinting toward the other end of the bar, Shepard hot on his heels. Afterlife was now completely abandoned, save for them and the mercs. He didn't look back, but Garrus heard the molotov hit, he heard the cries of the mercs and felt the heat on the back of his neck.

They were almost at the door when the first of them got their act together enough to start firing at them again. The arm of his armour was still aflame, throwing off his aim. Garrus flipped one of the heavy tables onto its side, grabbed Shepard around the waist and threw the pair of them behind it. He curled himself around her, his heart hammering hard in his chest as he sheltered her from shards of wood chipped from the table and the sparks from the bullets hitting the hard floor. The door sat just a few yards away but the moment they left cover the merc would target them; they'd be dead long before they reached it,

“Got any bright ideas?” he shouted over the sound of the mercs erratic gun fire,

“Just one. And you're not going to like it.” She pulled a new thermal clip from the holder on her thigh and passed it to him, “Your head-shot streak still as perfect as ever?”

“Are you insane?! I'll only get off one shot before that rifle rips your barrier to pieces.”

“Better make it count then. Don't die, Garrus.”

She gave his hand a quick squeeze and, before he could make a grab for her, was off and running for the door,

“Of all the crazy -” Garrus didn't waste the time it would take to finish the sentence. Turning on the balls of his feet while slamming the thermal clip home, he rested his elbows on the edge of the toppled table. The merc had temporarily forgotten about him, spraying the area where Shepard was running. Garrus took a breath and lined up the scope. The cross-hair hovered over the mercs head. The world shrunk down to a pinprick, the noise of the automatic rifle vanished. He held the breath, squeezed the trigger, felt the impact through his wrists and saw the mercs head snap back, his body going limp. Before he'd hit the floor Garrus was off, running in Shepard's wake. He cleared the door, rounded the wall and slammed the butt of the pistol into the door control. It sparked and the green icon on the door disappeared. They were safe, and Garrus allowed himself to breathe. He leant forward at the waist, his hands braced on his knees as he took several deep breaths,

“Do you think next time we could find a distraction that doesn't involve -” he glanced up, “You're hit!” A thick slash ran across Shepard's cheekbone, thin tendrils of blood snaked down her face and disappeared under her jawline,

“It's just a graze from a ricochet, it's nothing.” she said, swiping the blood away. Garrus ignored her, he was pretty sure she'd say it was nothing if it was a shot to the gut. He took her chin between his fingers and tilted her face up to the light to get a better look at her injury, “Garrus!” she swatted his shoulder, “It's fine.”

 _But it almost wasn't,_ he thought, he swallowed hard and released her chin with a curt nod,

“So now what are we -”

“Shush, listen.” he hissed,

The mercs seemed to have recovered — those that were left standing at any rate — they were grouped together and talking on the other side of the door,

“Damn, they broke the lock!”

“Who the hell are these guys?”

“Who cares? Get everyone on the radio; they're only two people, we'll surround them. Just don't let them reach the docks.”

Shepard gave a sigh of relief as the mercs voices drifted away, “The others didn't recognise you, right now that is literally all I care about. As far as the mercs are concerned Archangel is dead, and we need to keep it that way. All we need to do now is get to the docks without being seen.”

“Oh? Is that all?” Garrus said sarcastically,

“You know this station inside and out, where do we go?”

Garrus glanced up and down the hallway they were in. They were on the opposite side of the station to the docks, they obviously couldn't cut through Afterlife and it would probably be best if they avoided the streets as much as possible, their options were limited but Garrus had a few ideas up his sleeve.

“This way.”

 


	6. Shore leave. Part two.

“You're kidding, right? Please tell me you're kidding.” Shepard leant back onto one hip and crossed her arms over her chest, “You know that I'm up for pretty much anything, but you're really pushing your luck this time, Vakarian.”

“You have a better idea?” Garrus asked, as he carefully unscrewed the last of the small, fiddly steel screws that held the metal grate in place over his head,

“I can think of at least a dozen plans that wouldn't involve dragging my ass into an air-duct. Would you like me to list them in order of the most carnage, or alphabetically?”

“Uh huh. And how many of those plans can you pull off with only a pistol and less than two thermal clips?”

“You're underestimating my natural affinity for destruction here, Garrus.”

“I highly doubt that.” he scoffed.

Garrus finally finished with the screws, he carefully lifted down the heavy metal grate and glanced up into the access pipe that was hiding behind it. He hadn't used this particular entrance before, and he'd been slightly concerned that it might be blocked, luckily everything seemed clear, so they were good to go. Aside from Shepard's objections, of course. He ignored her grumbling complaints and hid the grate behind a nearby overflowing dumpster.

She came to stand next to him, hands on her hips, and glared up into the dark passage, “You really want to go crawling around up there?”

“I'm the Omega expert, remember? Trust me. You want to get to the docks without being seen? Then the ducts are the way to go. And they're really not that bad.” This was only a small lie on his part, he certainly hadn't enjoyed the cramped space the first time he'd been forced to use them, but during his time on Omega they'd become somewhat of a second home, so he'd gotten used to it,

“You know I could make the carnage plan work with just a pistol.”

“Get in the duct, Shepard.” Garrus said baldly. He cupped his hands together to give her a step up. She pouted but finally relented, stepping into his hands and letting him boost her up.

The ducts weren't as cramped as usual without the bulky armour Garrus normally wore. They were tall enough for him to crawl on hands and knees comfortably, and in just his civvies the walls didn't even brush his shoulders. Still, this was by far the most uncomfortable he'd ever been while using them. The reason was not one he'd been expecting.

“Enjoying the view, Vakarian?” Shepard teased as she crawled along in front of him, Garrus made an evasive noise from somewhere in his chest in place of a real answer, “Well don't blame me,” she said, “ _I_ wanted to use the pistol.”

He'd known half a second after entering the ducts that he'd made a huge mistake in letting her go first. That had been half a second too late. So he was now forced to crawl through Omega's air-ducts with his gaze forcefully pinned to the half dozen inches of metal between his hands.

 _It's the tequila,_ he told himself, _that's all this is. Your new-found fascination with Shepard's ass is just the alcohol. You'll be back to normal in the morning._

_Oh? So everything before the tequila was... what?_

_That was — that was just — don't cloud the issue with logic._

_Admit it;_ _**logically** _ _speaking, your feelings for Shepard have been changing for a while._

_You can take your logic and stick it -_

“You know, of all the things I thought I'd be doing on my shore leave,” Shepard muttered, interrupting his inner-argument, “I've got to admit, I didn't see crawling in ducts as being one of them.”

“I've been on shore leave with you before, remember?” Garrus reminded her, grinning a little as he remembered some of their antics with Wrex at Chora's Den, “This kind of crazy shit just seems to follow you around.”

“I had noticed.” she said dryly, “How do you think normal people spend their shore leave? Couple of drinks, a nice meal, maybe pick someone up for some non-regulation-breaking fun. Ooh no, we get mercs, air-ducts and explosions.”

“Non... non-regulation-breaking fun?” Garrus stammered, fumbling his crawling and hissing through his teeth when he twisted a finger,

“Yeah,” she said, completely oblivious, “The turian military doesn't have regs against fraternisation?”

“Not so long as everyone does their jobs,” he cleared his throat as he picked up on his own double entendre, “So to speak. Is — is that what tonight was supposed to be? You were looking for some non-regulation-breaking fun?”

“I don't think Cerberus has fraternisation regulations either,” she chuckled, “But no; I was just there for the ryncol.” Garrus nodded but didn't look up, he was relieved, and irritated with himself for said relief, “You might want to try hitting the bars again without your commanding officer cramping your style, you were getting some looks.” Surprise made him glance up, she was looking back at him over her shoulder, one copper eyebrow cocked and her mouth turned up in a crooked smile,

“I was?” _He_ certainly hadn't noticed anyone looking at him.

_And I wonder why that is? Probably for the same reason you're having to stare at your hands._

Garrus had barely noticed another person in Afterlife, at least until the mercs had shown up.

“Let's put it this way,” Shepard scoffed, “If female turians could weaponise dirty looks, then you'd be crawling through the ducts with a pile of smoking hot ash right now.”

Garrus forced another chuckle but didn't answer. The term 'smoking hot' had taken on a new meaning in the last few hours.

 

Conversation dropped off as they continued to crawl through the ducts. Garrus knew these tunnels well; they'd saved his hide on more than one occasion when Archangel had called this station home. If he had to guess, then they were about to pass over the warehouse district. They'd have to leave the safety of the ducts before they reached the docks, but — Garrus was so focused on not staring at Shepard's ass that he nearly ploughed right into her when she came to a sudden stop,

“What?” he hissed, she didn't answer, just twisted back to look at him over her shoulder and held a finger over her mouth to shush him.

She moved to the side and waved a hand to invite him to move up next to her. The duct was barely big enough for him on his own, trying to cram himself in alongside her was a squeeze, a squeeze that in his current mood he'd rather have avoided. She frowned at him in confusion and waved again. With a resigned sigh Garrus made himself as small as he could — which in all honesty wasn't very small at all — and crawled up next to her. Crammed in shoulder to shoulder Garrus could feel the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of his civvies. He cleared his throat and tried his best to ignore it. She raised an eyebrow at him and pointed down. There was another grate in the floor just in front of her, looking down Garrus could see into the room below, and also see the merc in a Blue Suns uniform standing directly underneath them.

“Nothing here.” the merc barked into a comm. He was using an old-fashioned handheld unit, probably to make it harder for Aria to listen in, Garrus thought. His team had done something similar. The mercs voice echoed up to where Garrus and Shepard crouched silently over him, “I've sent the boys to the docks in case they slip by.” The merc tilted his head to one side, the handheld radio pressed tightly to his ear as he listened to whoever was on the other end, “They blew up her club!” he snapped, “Aria will probably pay good money for their heads! And once they're dead, Aria will have no way of knowing who shot first. Just find them.”

Shepard leant closer to whisper into Garrus' ear, “Okay, so we only have a pistol with less than two clips and the docks are surrounded. We need more guns and ammo, I say we drop through and take his.”

“We have no way of knowing how many hostiles are in that room,” Garrus whispered back, “We could be shot to hell before we even reach the ground.”

“We won't reach The Normandy with only a pistol if they're watching the docks.”

“We won't reach The Normandy if we're blown to pieces falling from an air-duct either.”

“And I suppose you have a better plan?”

They both glanced back down through the grating to see the merc looking right back up at them. His mouth was hanging slightly open, apparently too surprised to see the two people they were looking for having a whispered argument right over his head to alert anyone else. Garrus heard Shepard snicker next to him before she raised her hand and gave the merc a little wave,

“Or we could drop through and take his?” Garrus muttered, he glanced at Shepard in time to see her shoot him a smug look. In one smooth motion he whipped the pistol from his belt, curled himself around her to protect her from the ricochet, and blew the hinges from the grating.

Garrus' ears were still ringing from the blast when Shepard vanished from his side and threw herself through the opening. The merc was directly below her and broke her fall,

“Five!” she called out as Garrus dropped down behind her.

The first merc was right ahead of him, Shepard's pistol still gripped tightly in his hand, Garrus fired before the surprised merc had even got to her feet,

“Four!” he shouted back.

Shepard's biotics lashed out, catching a turian Blue Sun merc in a pull. He was yanked off his feet towards her, in one fluid move she raised her hand, grabbed him by the front of his armour and drove her knee into his chin, shattering his delicate mandible; he was unconscious before he hit the floor.

“Three!”

The remaining mercs had recovered from their surprise; the ones left scrambled for their guns. Garrus jumped to the side to avoid the spray from an assault rifle. Shepard charged the assault rifle merc, a split-second later she had his neck pinned to the wall, her head tilted away to make room for Garrus' head-shot,

“Two!”

A batarian merc grabbed an SMG, Garrus combat rolled behind a desk, dropping the pistol to free his hand for his omni-tool. He only just made it before the merc unloaded in the spot that Garrus was just a moment earlier, sparks flew from where the rounds hit the hard concrete floor, the air was filled with the smell of gunfire and the familiar scent of eeezo that accompanied Shepard's biotics. Garrus hit a button on his omni-tool, overloading the merc's shield before slamming his fist into the mercs face and breaking the soft cartilage ridge that ran along the batarian's head, he landed in a heap at Garrus' feet,

“One!”

Garrus ducked behind the desk again as the last merc fired her heavy pistol at him. Shepard sprinted across the small room, turned it into a slide and scooped up Garrus' discarded pistol. Turning on one knee she fired twice, emptying the clip and hitting centre mass with each shot, the final merc hit the wall before slowly sliding to the floor.

It was all over in a matter of seconds. The sudden adrenalin had left Garrus slightly light-headed.

“Clear!” Shepard twisted her upper body from where she was still on one knee, flicking her hair over one shoulder to grin broadly at him, “I win.”

Garrus found himself grinning rather mindlessly back before her words registered, “You win? By my count we each have three.” he crossed his arms over his chest and raised a brow-plate at her, her smile only widened.

“You only get half a point for the third guy, I helped.”

“Really? _That's_ what you're going with, huh?” he shrugged, “Well if you have to cheat to keep your kill count up, then whatever lets you sleep at night, Shepard.”

She tossed him the empty pistol before climbing to her feet and glancing around; the room was quite small and seemed to be part office and part storage room. Crates were stacked along one wall, data pads were strewn around, one large desk and a locker took up most of the space, “Okay,” she said, “Let's be quick, grab what you can and let's get the hell out of here.”

 

Rummaging in the rooms solitary locker, Shepard managed to find herself a change of clothes; they were much too big for her, she had to roll the trouser legs up so she wouldn't fall over, but with the baggy jeans, oversized t-shirt and a large hooded jacket to hide her bright red hair Garrus thought the mercs might overlook her if they only had a quick glance.

He'd been relieved when Shepard had found the clothes, he'd expected that out of sight out of mind might have applied. It had not. In the baggy clothes, she now looked -

_Cute. Dammit._

_You've just seen her take down three — and a half according to her cheating methods of counting — armed, trained mercenaries without breaking a sweat! How can she be cute?_

_I've no idea. But she is._

She'd also found herself a shotgun and grenade belt filled with smoke grenades. The grenades themselves probably wouldn't be useful, but since she didn't have any other means of affixing the gun to her, the belt itself did a great job of strapping her newly acquired shotgun to her back. Garrus himself had come across a sniper rifle and more ammo for Shepard's pistol. The rifle was badly maintained, but he didn't have a whole lot of options, he'd have traded every single one of Shepard's grenades for his Mantis. As though she could hear his thoughts Shepard threw him a sympathetic look before hunkering down to the merc that had broken her fall and relieving him of his radio and hooking it to her belt,

“At least we can listen in on what they're saying. Ready to go?”

He nodded and they moved as one for the door. Shepard pushed her hair behind one ear, her shotgun at the ready. She caught his eye, her hand poised over the locking mechanism for the door, and gave him the Alliance hand signal that said to let her move up first. Garrus held his breath and nodded again. She palmed open the door and slipped silently into the hallway outside.

They hugged the walls of the narrow hall, stepping quietly as they made their way toward what he hoped was the exit. It was a carbon copy of every other small warehouse on Omega. Garrus was grateful they hadn't dropped into one of the busier plants that littered the station. There was no movement of machinery, no loud presses to hide the noise of enemies. The place seemed abandoned. Dusty boxes lined the dim hall, some of the lights over their heads didn't work and those that did flickered sporadically. Other doors branched off the main hallway, but they didn't try to open any of them; their usual habit of scavenging where they could was forgotten for the time being. Their goal was the docks and, for once, Shepard seemed happy to leave any ill-gotten credits behind them.

The wall at the front of the building was almost entirely made up of small, individual glass squares. Some of the panes were broken and had been haphazardly boarded up, the others will filthy. Shepard used her sleeve to wipe thick black dirt from a few of the small windows so they could look out. The window faced a bustling street, people of every race passed back and forth in front of them.

“It's the market.” Shepard hissed,

“That's good. We can blend in with the crowd. The docks are just on the other side.” Garrus pointed down the street, there was a turning only half a dozen blocks away that would take them straight to the docking ports. They still had to get through a few dozen mercs to reach it, of course.

“Good,” she nodded, “Almost there. Stay close.”

 

The crowded market made Garrus feel twitchy. This wasn't how he was used to making his way around Omega; Archangel moved in the shadows, exploiting the darkest alleys and hidden passages, the sewers and catwalks. He most certainly didn't walk through bustling market places where you couldn't spot your enemies coming or hear them over the sounds of so many people talking at once and the loud traders plying their wares. His hand hovered over the stolen gun, his palm itching to draw it as his eyes darted from face to face, looking for a flash of blue armour. Judging by the hunch of Shepard's shoulders, she wasn't too happy about the situation either; even with the hood of her jacket drawn up, he could see the tension in her neck as she walked next to him.

They stayed close to the storefronts, their heads down as they walked as quickly as they could without drawing attention to themselves. By glancing over Shepard's head, Garrus could see their reflection in the glass windows of the shops. He found his gaze darting there every few seconds to check if they were being followed.

They'd gone two blocks without seeing a single merc, without anyone shouting or pointing at them. It was almost too easy. In retrospect, that should have been his first clue that something was going to happen.

The dock area was almost in sight when they rounded a corner and saw three mercs, two humans and a turian, making their way toward them through the crowd, the three of them very carefully looking at every face they passed. Garrus halted and threw his arm out to stop Shepard,

“Back up.” Garrus muttered.

Before the mercs could spot them they backed around the corner and turned around. Another group of mercs had appeared a short distance behind them.

 _Shit._ They were trapped in the middle. Instinctively Garrus reached for his gun,

“No.” Shepard hissed, placing a hand on his arm to stop him, “No shooting, too many civilians.”

“Then what do we do?”

“Okay, quick, this way.” she grabbed his arm and tugged him into a dark, narrow alley between two shops,

“That's a dead end, Shepard. What are you -”

A few feet into the alley she stopped, turned to him and nudged him back against the wall. She lifted up on her toes, her hands resting on the tops of his shoulders,

“I saw this in a vid once, always did want to see if it works.” she explained, “Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable, they don't look closely. If we're lucky then they'll pass us by,”

Some of her hair escaped the hood and swung down into her face, for a moment Garrus was enveloped in its scent before she pushed it back behind her ear.

 _Shit, she smells good,_ he thought, _really good._

The scent of vanilla and spices.

“I won't bite, Garrus.” she said, her voice wavering in amusement. Garrus' hands had been itching to touch her since arriving at Afterlife; they moved with a mind of their own, wrapping around her hips. His fingertips almost touched at the small of her back — alien and familiar at the same time, soft curves where he was only used to sharp, hard plates — as he drew her closer. She leant up, he could feel her breath on the sensitive skin of his neck as she purred in his ear, “Not unless you ask me nicely.”

It was a joke. He _knew_ it was a joke, but that did nothing to stop his heart from skipping a beat and the flip in his stomach.

He couldn't help it, his hands flexed, the blunted tips of his talons pressed into her hips, the beginning of a soft growl rumbled from his chest. He heard Shepard's breath catch, felt the small, sharp gasp that caught in her throat as her body tensed. She lifted higher on her toes, pressing herself flush against him as one of her hands slipped up to the back of his neck.

Garrus was fairly sure they were both holding their breath, and he wasn't sure which heartbeat he could hear hammering in his ears; hers or his own.

He dipped his head, turning his face into her neck. Before he could overthink it, he grazed his mouth over the soft skin. She tilted her head slightly, exposing her neck and throat to him. Garrus felt the growl that longed to escape his chest deepen, and was utterly powerless to stop it. She couldn't possibly know what that gesture meant in turian body language; the neck was one of the few places on a turian that wasn't protected by plates, exposing it was a clear invitation and sign of trust. Her small, blunt fingers explored the back of his neck, brushing up under his crest, dangerously close to the small bundle of nerves where the crest met the back of the skull. For the first time, Garrus wondered what it would feel like to have soft delicate fingers brush that sensitive area rather than hard talons.

Carefully Garrus trailed his mouth along her neck, following the line of her throat to where her neck met her shoulder, and felt her shiver when he reached the join, heard the soft moan that made him want to -

They both jumped as the radio strapped to Shepard's belt flared into life and a static filled voice told them that the market had been swept and was clear.

Garrus had forgotten about the mercs entirely. His head jerked back, tangling some of Shepard's hair in his mandible. She flicked it behind her ear with a chuckle, it had an odd throaty edge to it, her gaze briefly met his before flitting away. Her arms dropped from his neck and, for a moment, she didn't seem to know quite what to do with them, they swung at her sides for a few moments before she settled on crossing them over her chest. Even in the dim light of the alley, he could see the blush rising in her cheeks and his visor bleeped at her increased heart-rate. Part of him wanted to apologise, half expecting her to be angry, even though the whole 'public display of affection' thing had been her idea, but angry was far from how she looked. She looked flustered, her heel tapping on the dirty floor of the alley, her gaze briefly met his again before she smiled and looked away; the same sweet, unguarded smile she'd given him after Alchera.

“Well, erm, hypothesis proven then.” she said, her voice was slightly lower in pitch than normal, she cleared her throat and gestured back toward the market, “Shall we?”

Garrus nodded mutely and pushed off from the wall to follow her.

 _What the hell is going on?_ He wondered, _what was that?_

He couldn't remember the last time he'd reacted to someone like that. Garrus wasn't exactly inexperienced; he'd had his fair share of flings and hookups, more than a few one night stands during his Archangel years. But none of them had been able to pull a growl from his chest with nothing more than exposing their neck.

_What the hell are you thinking, Vakarian?! It's Shepard, SHEPARD!_

 

Garrus tried to force himself to focus asthey reached the mouth of the alley and looked back out into the market, people still passed in droves but, as the faceless voice on the radio had said, there were no mercs in sight as they slipped back into the crowd.

A few blocks down and they turned off from the busy market and onto the quiet street that led towards the docks. The next turn would take them onto the docks themselves, they were nearly home free. When they reached the corner Garrus watched their backs while Shepard peered carefully around the bend to see exactly what kind of guard the mercs had left for them,

“I can see the docks,” she hissed at him, “And the mercs,”

“How many?” he asked out of the corner of his mouth,

“Only four. We should go now before more arrive.”

He looked over her head to see the four mercs hovering around the docking area, looking thoroughly bored with their post as they lounged on a few waist high bollards. As bored as they looked, they were still carrying an extensive amount of weapons strapped to their hips, side arms on their belts.

“How do you want to play this?” he asked, pulling back to look at her,

“Let's pull out an oldie,” she smiled, the devilish look to it made Garrus groan aloud and roll his eyes, “Damsel in distress, always was a favourite.”

“Oh no.” he said, waving his arms in protest, “We are not doing damsel in distress.”

“Just like old times! It'll be fun.” she pulled her shotgun from the strap holding it to her back and hid it beneath her jacket at her side,

“It was _never_ fun.”

“When was it not fun?”

“Do you want a list?” Garrus asked with exasperation, “We are not doing it.”

“Come on, Garrus.”

“No.”

“Woop, too late.” She ducked under his arm and took off toward the docks at a jog,

“For the love of — “ the sentence trailed off into muttered turian cursing as he watched Shepard approach the mercs. She waved to them with the arm that wasn't holding her shotgun,

“Help!” she shouted at them, “Can you help me?”

The mercs that had been leaning nonchalantly against the walls and bollards straightened, some raising their guns, as they glanced at each other in confusion.

“Hey! Back off!” one of the mercs shouted at her. He waved his assault rifle in warning, his hand inching toward the trigger. This was precisely why Garrus hated damsel in distress, but she kept running toward them, her head low, her hood covering her face. She added a stumble to her jog, favouring the leg that wasn't hiding her gun.

The mercs grouped together as she approached,

“I need your help,” she called, “There's a — there's a -”

She ran straight through the group so they had to turn to face her, turning their backs to the market. Garrus emerged from the shadows, his sniper rifle already in his hands,

“Hey!” one of the mercs shouted again, “You need to back off, what are you -”

“Look.” Shepard said over him, raising a hand to point back the way she'd come. All four of the mercs turned their heads to look at Garrus. Shock dawned on all their faces, it was almost comical; an identical look of surprise widened eyes on the four humans. An instant later they were in the air as Shepard threw a shockwave into the middle of them. Garrus picked off one while he was still in the air, the blast of Shepard's shotgun was extremely loud as she took care of another. Garrus didn't bother to re-chamber the rifle, switching to Shepard's pistol he fired three shots at his second merc, Shepard grabbed the final one in a pull as he hit the ground and launched him into a wall at break-neck speed.

Garrus' well-practised fingers reloaded the rifle as he sauntered over to her, “Well, that wasn't too bad.”

The words had barely left his mouth when a door behind her swished open, another platoon of half a dozen mercs walked out to block their path. For a second they halted and, in silence, looked from Shepard and Garrus to their fallen comrades and back again before reaching as one for their weapons. Shepard shoved Garrus in the shoulder, pushing the pair of them behind the cover of a waist high concrete bollard,

“Damn, Vakarian!” Shepard shouted over the sound of gunfire, “You just had to say it!”

“Yeah,” he winced, chips of concrete were flying into the air around them, “That's on me, sorry.”

The radio still on her belt crackled into life, barely audible over the rapid fire of assault weapons, “Targets found — back up need — docking ar -”

Shepard ripped it from her belt and smashed it into the ground with the butt of her shotgun before shrugging out of the oversized hoodie and pushing a hand through her hair, “We need to make this quick.”

“I'm ready,” he nodded, “Go.”

Shepard took a few deep breaths, “Keep your head down.” she warned before throwing herself over their cover and biotically charging the group of mercs. She launched herself into their midst before slamming her fist into the ground, blasting away her own barriers in a nova attack. Several of the mercs were thrown off their feet by the blast, only those with the most impressive shields staggered back a few steps but remained standing, Garrus flicked a thumb over his omni-tool, sending an overload at their shields, buying Shepard a few vital seconds to throw herself into cover while her barrier regenerated.

The small street was soon filled with the sound of gunfire; the rapid fire of the mercs various assault rifles, the deafening blasts of Shepard's shotgun and the slower but more deadly report of Garrus' sniper rifle.

The mercs fought to contain the small, violet ball of fury that was Shepard as she danced around them with deadly speed. She was there one second, and gone the next, using her charge to fly from target to target so fast that the mercs couldn't keep up. Garrus, so used to working with Shepard that it was second nature, fired around her, his bullets passing over her shoulder or under her arm. Shepard, so used to working with Garrus that it was second nature, didn't even flinch as his bullets fired so close to her that she could almost feel them pass, opening up shots for him and flinging his targets into the air.

The knot of mercs became more and more spread out, with Shepard on one side of their group, and Garrus on the other. Their numbers dropped under the pairs coordinated attacks.

With only two mercs left Garrus had emptied both guns,

“I'm out!” he shouted to Shepard,

“Got it!” she called back and Garrus dropped behind his cover to reload, he could hear Shepard's shotgun blasts as he hurried, not wanting to leave her on her own for a second more than necessary.

Rifle and pistol stocked with new thermal clips he leant back on the top of the bollard, his elbows propped on top and the heavy rifle resting in his palms. He could see Shepard drop the merc she was tackling, and he focused on the last one standing; a batarian in high-quality Blue Suns armour standing only a few feet away. The sudden movement of Garrus emerging back from cover caught the mercs eye, and he turned to face Garrus, it was too late. Garrus already had his sights focused on the batarian's head. The last merc, and they were home free, they'd be back on the ship and out of here in a matter of seconds. Before the batarian could react Garrus pulled the trigger.

The firing mechanism jammed. Garrus pulled the trigger again, nothing happened.

_Spirits forsaken, shitty ass, pile of crap gun._

Time slowed to a crawl as it dawned on Garrus that this was it. His heart hammered in his chest as the merc met his eye.The merc grinned a sly, slimy smile as he lifted his assault rifle. Garrus didn't have time to switch to the pistol. His luck was officially out. The merc looked down at him through the sights, Garrus felt the rifle go slack in his hands as the batarians finger twitched toward the trigger.

A sudden flash of movement and Shepard appeared next to the batarian, in the mercs excitement at realising he had caught Garrus unarmed he seemed to have forgotten about her entirely. She caught the underside of the assault rifle in her hand and pushed the gun upward, the rapid blast of fire that should have at that very moment be spilling blue blood across the floor, harmlessly hit the ceiling. The roar of rage from the batarian was cut abruptly short as Shepard's omni-tool blade flickered into life on her wrist before she buried it in his side. The last merc fell to the ground.

“You okay there, Vakarian?” she asked, her sharp green eyes wide with concern,

“Yeah, I think so.” Garrus said, checking himself for injuries and still not quite sure how he was still alive,

“Good, you had me worried there for a second.” she smiled that slow, sweet smile at him again before offering a hand to help him up. He dropped the useless sniper rifle to the ground and took her hand to haul himself up, “I didn't want to have to drag your heavy ass back to the ship.”

Garrus didn't have time to catch his breath before they heard the sound of running footsteps behind him. The mercs back-up had arrived.

“That's our cue to move.” Shepard said, “Go!” she pushed him towards the airlock,

“But -”

“I'm right behind you, go!”

Garrus ran for The Normandy, he glanced back over his shoulder in time to see Shepard pull the pins from several smoke grenades and toss the entire belt behind her as she turned to follow him. Within seconds the docking area was filled with smoke. The mercs would have no idea which dock they'd used. Garrus hit the button for the airlock and a second later the pair of them were safe behind Normady's thick, impenetrable doors.

“Did you guys have fun?” Joker asked over his shoulder as they exited the airlock and stepped onto the ship,

“Eventful is the word I'd use,” Shepard huffed, “Is everyone back?”

“All present and accounted for, Commander, you're the last.”

“Good, let's get the hell off this station.”

“Roger that.” Joker nodded and returned his attention to the instruments, Garrus could already feel the familiar rumble of The Normandy's engines start to warm up under his feet, “You know,” Joker continued, “The next time we have shore leave, maybe you should stick to restaurants. We could grab some sushi, even you can't get into trouble going for sushi.”

“I'll take it under advisement.” Shepard said with a chuckle, and she and Garrus turned towards the elevator.

 

Garrus rode the elevator up to the top floor, to the “loft”, with her instead of heading down to the third floor. If Shepard noticed she chose not to comment, and Garrus decided not to think about his reasoning, he was pretty sure that it would only serve to make matters worse in his confused head.

“Do you want to come in for a bit?” she asked once the ridiculously slow elevator stopped and the doors slid open, “I don't have any tequila but I did pick up a copy of the new Blasto vid while we were on the Citadel. Fancy rounding off shore leave pointing out all the ridiculous inaccuracies and cliches on my sofa?”

_Yes, yes, I really do._

_Which is exactly why you shouldn't!_

“Erm, no thanks, Shepard. I, erm, I have some -”

“Calibrations? Of course you do.” she smiled, “See you tomorrow, Garrus.” she said before disappearing into her quarters.

Garrus stood and stared at the green icon on Shepard's door, his thumb pressing the button to keep the elevator doors open.

One half of him was kicking himself for not taking her up on the offer, the other, more sensible, half was praising his restraint.

After a few seconds the elevator started to ping at him, he ignored it.

_What the hell is happening to me?_

He'd never had a thing for humans, but he'd be damned if he wasn't rethinking that policy right now.

_No, that's not quite right. It's not because she's human, it's because she's her._

He was attracted to Shepard, and he had no idea when it had even started.

Ridiculous and over the top flirting aside, they'd never been anything but friends.

He remembered that sucked in breath when they were in the alley, the slight catch that had entered her voice when he'd reacted to her.

_No, you are not going in there. You're going to go take a cold shower, go to sleep and you are absolutely, positively, in no way, going to think about green eyes with golden sunbursts or Commander Shepard's physics defying legs._

He'd, apparently, not listened to himself and had actually taken a step toward Shepard's door when his omni-tool alerted him to a message.

He thumbed it open, stepped back into the elevator and hit the button for the third floor.

The message was from his contact in C-Sec.

They'd found him. Sidonis was heading for the Citadel.

 

 


End file.
